Tuesday, June 3

Tonight the dog ate my dinner.

Yes, the dog ate the dinner that I sat down to eat at 11:37 p.m. after a long, hard day. That same dinner that took over an hour to prepare, and yet only minutes to destroy.

You see, in the moment that grace-upon-a-couch was extended to my fine furry friend, grace fell in the form of a tantalizing pile of mozzarella cheese atop a pizza with an all-too absent master.

The crime? Frustrating.
The offense? Forgivable.

For you see in the moment that I caught my red-handed pup with marinara sauce in his beard, grace washed over me anew as I realized (still while in the midst of screaming), that I too have had my face heads-down in many pizzas that also were not my own. How humbling it is to have the moral fortitude of one's dog...

So, thank you Jesus, I say, for grace which sweetly pardons us both.

And yet while Chester and I are both forgiven, one difference shall remain....: only one of us will ever be eating on the couch again.

This one's for you, Chester. For you, for me, and for anyone else who needs some grace.

Psalm 32
Blessed is the one
whose transgressions are forgiven,
whose sins are covered.
Blessed is the one
whose sin the Lord does not count against them


The culprit. So sweet. Soooooo naughty.
 

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