Hmm. Where is the dog? Doesn’t she usually meet me at the door all wags and slobbers?
Mystery? Where are you?
Oh. So why are hiding behind the sofa with your head between your paws?
Is that a hair clip? Or, should I say, WAS that a hairclip?
Bad dog.
Oh, well. It was just a cheapie from the Dollar Tree. It’s okay, I forgive you. Umm…why are you still crawling on the floor, whining? I said, I forgive you. Hey–what’s that behind you? Is that the a dance slipper?
Oh Mystery–not again!
Haven’t I told you before?
Didn’t you know you’re not supposed to?
Didn’t you act all sorry and repentant the last time?
Of course you knew better. You knew when you opened the girl’s dance bag with your teeth. Just a sniff, right? Just a taste? Just a nibble?
You knew.
So, here you are crawling on the floor, refusing to look at me.
(Sigh.) Well, I forgive you, Mystery. Again.
After all, how many times have I hidden from God, with my face between my hands? How many times have I crawled on the floor, my heart whining in regret? How many times has He taken my hand and lifted me up?
Too many to count.
Thanks for reminding me.
Good dog.
Ha. Been there (in more ways than one). We still love them. God still loves us.
That look is all too familiar. They know they’re doing wrong when they’re doing it, and yet they still continue. Sort of like us, huh?
That look is all too familiar. They know they’re doing wrong when they’re doing it, and yet they still continue. Sort of like us, huh?