My home is ruled by a ten-pound dog.
Daisy joined our household when my daughter, now a junior in college, was in kindergarten. Daisy was already an adult dog when we rescued her from the pound, so she’s at least 15 years old, probably more. Daisy’s a cranky old woman who just wants things the way she wants them, and wonders why people don’t know exactly what that is. In her mind, we all exist to serve her and we should be grateful for the opportunity. If that means breakfast at 4 am, then so be it.
I like to think that rescue animals always retain some memory of life in the big house, and are thus eternally grateful for their second chance, but Daisy tinkles regularly on my theory. Perhaps she’s more like the Israelites than not. God’s voice through Hosea says, I took them up in my arms; but they did not know that I healed them (v. 3b). Like a privileged household pet who has claimed her spot on the couch, we have forgotten how life used to be.
It seems to be human nature that when life is going well, we easily forget when it was not. We forget the times we struggled, when we were knocked down and out by the blows of the world and (more often) our own poor decisions. We forget how many times God has picked us up and dusted us off, offering us life and hope again.
It doesn’t seem like an unreasonable request: our Parent simply wants us to remember that it is he who rescues us, she who feeds us. Why? Because when we forget, we walk through life feeling smugly
entitled. But when we remember, we rest in profound gratitude.
What are you grateful for today? What are you taking for granted?
Too often, God, I forget how blessed I am to be called your child. May this be a day when I walk in gratitude, alive to all the ways you love me. Amen.