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.
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.