Deliverance is the theme today, and as I embark upon an uphill year, I’m asking for that from you, Father.
These words were journaled hastily this morning. Today’s Bible reading plan took me to Job, 2 Corinthians, Psalms, and Proverbs.
Really? Job? The first weeks of school?
I trust that where I am is where I need to be. Full confidence.
He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us.
On him we have set our hope that he will deliver us again.
Be pleased, O Lord, to deliver me! O Lord, make haste to help me!
The second verse I write on an index card to keep with me through the day. Not exactly sure why, I just know that it’s what I need.
Quiet time is one of my favorite parts of the day. I don’t say this in a holier than thou way or in a prescriptive way but just in an honest way. I treasure my time being still with my Bible. Listening. Drinking that first cup of coffee.
Time is short and morning rolls along at breakneck speed, as we work to get everyone out of the house. By a stroke of amazing kindness, I am left alone at 7:20 with fifteen minutes to spare.
Dewey whines in his crate. I’m not alone. I decide to give him a quick walk up around the block before leaving him for the day. Grabbing a plastic bag, I release and leash him. We leave the house at a quick pace, my heart rate rising to keep up with him.
Around the block and to the top of the street and around that block and, oh no, another dog.
This dog is big and not leashed and barking and jumping at me and Dewey. It’s not a mean dog, and it has an owner that can’t be seen even though the house door is open, and I am loudly trying to get the dog away from mine.
Why did I think this was a good idea? Is running through my head. Really? My fifteen minutes for THIS???
I sweep Dewey up into my arms and carry him off. The dog follows on my heels, jumping occasionally. A girl is waiting on the corner for her middle school bus, and I ask if she knows whose dog it is.
She doesn’t, but listens politely as I recount my frustrating walk and try not to cry as we both watch the big dog squat to do his business. Another on my list of nevers, I open Dewey’s plastic bag and scoop up the pile.
I guess it’s like when you have kids. I say to the girl. It’s a lot grosser when the poops not your own. I hope your day is better than mine has started out being!
Dewey and I race downhill and round the corner to home.
Little do I know what is to come. Lock downs and sadness.