** This has been in my draft file for a while. Thought it was time to break it out. Hope you enjoy.***
The Dog's Diary
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
The Cat's Diary
Day 983 of My Captivity
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Idiots!
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released, and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now ...
Two animals living in the same house, but with a completely different perspective from one another. Definitely a good reminder for me that life is what you make it.
Charles Swindoll is quoted as saying: "The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life.
Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness, or skill. It will make or break a company ... a church ... a home.
The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past. We cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable.
The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude ... I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me, and 90% how I react to it. And so it is with you ... we are in charge of our Attitudes."
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
A.S.K.
Matthew 7:7-8 says "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened."
Ask, Seek, Knock = A. S. K.
The Message version sums it up like this:
7-11"Don't bargain with God. Be direct. Ask for what you need. This isn't a cat-and-mouse, hide-and-seek game we're in. If your child asks for bread, do you trick him with sawdust? If he asks for fish, do you scare him with a live snake on his plate? As bad as you are, you wouldn't think of such a thing. You're at least decent to your own children. So don't you think the God who conceived you in love will be even better?"
This passage has taken on an even deeper meaning for me lately. On reflecting on my prayer life, I think that sometimes my prayers are ineffective. Not because God isn't listening or because he gets tired of hearing from me, almost like "Oh geez, it's her again. What does she want now?"
On the contrary. I think that my prayers can become ineffective because they morph into venting sessions. I tell God my problems, ad nauseam I'm sure, but I don't ASK him to act. I don't ASK him to solve. I don't ASK him to heal, to right injustice, for His hand to move, for His touch to restore, for his love to flow free.
I've been treating God like a friend. I want him to listen, and I know that he does and that he always will. But I've forgotten that my God has male likenesses -- he wants to act. He wants to solve. He wants to ride in like the prince on his horse and save the day.
But I haven't asked him lately.
My prayers have not been prayers of asking, seeking, knocking.
I sit in the middle of a raging sea and do not ask. My ship is battered, yet I do not ask. The winds whip around me, yet my lips are closed. And all the while my Lord waits.
I realize that in order to make my prayers more effective I must ASK. But these prayers must be in earnest. I must fall to my face and spend time with Him. They cannot be fleeting prayers that get lost among my laundry and checkbook and errands. They cannot be short bursts uttered as I drift off to sleep. They must be bathed in time. I must present them to the Lord in a manner in which He knows my sincerity.
Asking and seeking and knocking require effort. Almost all that effort must be mine. After all, what right do I have to require the Lord to read my mind, after all he's done for me. . .
Ask, Seek, Knock = A. S. K.
The Message version sums it up like this:
7-11"Don't bargain with God. Be direct. Ask for what you need. This isn't a cat-and-mouse, hide-and-seek game we're in. If your child asks for bread, do you trick him with sawdust? If he asks for fish, do you scare him with a live snake on his plate? As bad as you are, you wouldn't think of such a thing. You're at least decent to your own children. So don't you think the God who conceived you in love will be even better?"
This passage has taken on an even deeper meaning for me lately. On reflecting on my prayer life, I think that sometimes my prayers are ineffective. Not because God isn't listening or because he gets tired of hearing from me, almost like "Oh geez, it's her again. What does she want now?"
On the contrary. I think that my prayers can become ineffective because they morph into venting sessions. I tell God my problems, ad nauseam I'm sure, but I don't ASK him to act. I don't ASK him to solve. I don't ASK him to heal, to right injustice, for His hand to move, for His touch to restore, for his love to flow free.
I've been treating God like a friend. I want him to listen, and I know that he does and that he always will. But I've forgotten that my God has male likenesses -- he wants to act. He wants to solve. He wants to ride in like the prince on his horse and save the day.
But I haven't asked him lately.
My prayers have not been prayers of asking, seeking, knocking.
I sit in the middle of a raging sea and do not ask. My ship is battered, yet I do not ask. The winds whip around me, yet my lips are closed. And all the while my Lord waits.
I realize that in order to make my prayers more effective I must ASK. But these prayers must be in earnest. I must fall to my face and spend time with Him. They cannot be fleeting prayers that get lost among my laundry and checkbook and errands. They cannot be short bursts uttered as I drift off to sleep. They must be bathed in time. I must present them to the Lord in a manner in which He knows my sincerity.
Asking and seeking and knocking require effort. Almost all that effort must be mine. After all, what right do I have to require the Lord to read my mind, after all he's done for me. . .
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