…puppies, cats and dogs.

This weekend, I flew back East for a super quick trip…it was Donna weekend. I explained last year what the weekend means to me, that every year I get to cross the finish line with Lolly is a gift and every year I cry just as hard.

This year was bittersweet. I’d trained-then because of double pneumonia, wasn’t able to run-AT ALL. It was less than impressive walking thirteen entire miles and all the while, praying my chest wouldn’t explode. Truth is, this ole girls lungs are not accustomed to high humidity and warmer temperatures anymore, throw in double pneumonia and you create the perfect storm. I finished though. So did Lolly. We crossed the finish line together again.

I long for the day that we get to cross the finish line with cancer. The day she is healed from the horrible disease that strips her strength and her health and her energy. But, it never steals her tenacity, her humor or her grace. The gift of her friendship is, indeed, one of the greatest gifts He’s ever given me. Each day I get to share in her light is a good one.

At dinner Saturday night, Lolly’s daddy, P, told us a story that was shared with him when he was first parenting Lolly, her brother and younger sister.

It went like this.

You know kids are like puppies, cats and dogs. When they’re first born and during the early childhood years, they like to cuddle and everything you do is awesome. They think you know the answers to all their questions and you can fix all the world’s problems. As they get older, they grow to be like cats. They are in control of their environment. For the most part, they want nothing to do with good ole Mom and Dad. They might occasionally brush up against you for some reassurance, and even less often they’ll curl up next to you on the couch and hug you tight. As fast it happens though, they’ve gone on their way again. Finally, as they begin to enter early adulthood, sometimes sooner, sometimes later, they begin to love you like a dog loves his master. They are able to make their own decisions, they have their own place and space. They call you on occasion for love and a listening ear…not as a parent but as a dear friend.

I was captivated by this story and it took me a few hours after dinner to process why. The reality…this is what my walk with Christ has looked like. I imagine many of you have a similar testimony.

As a young child, we were in church as often as the doors were open. I sang in church, Mom and Dad helped with youth activities and VBS. I was baptized when I was 11. Then as I went into my teen years, I knew God was there, I still went to church, I still prayed (not nearly as much I should’ve) and still made choices that were good. Choices that put me on the list of “good girls”. College was much the same. I loved people easily, had many friends, chose to love others despite our differences and continued to make the good choice. I’ve often told J those decisions were mostly based out of fear…nonetheless, I totally embodied the caption “good girl”.

It wasn’t until I was significantly older, I began to realize how desperately I needed Jesus. Not just for the occasional conversation-for every single moment of every single day. I need him desperately, as a dear friend. I need him to walk through life with me the way Lolly does and even more.

As I received this revelation, my heart burst with acknowledgment that despite myself, He NEVER left me. I may feel like my choices were out of fear of punishment…I also desperately want to believe His voice, while very quiet, was still there guiding my every step.

Then I began to think about my babies. Right now, they are little puppies and most days, everything I do is marvelous and wonderful-a kiss can fix most everything. We’re getting ready for the transition to cats in the next few years. My prayer is that J and I are able to love them so well through the “cat” stage that they will truly become our dearest friends as they transition to adulthood.

So, thanks to Mr. P for the wonderful lesson on parenting and for unknowingly turning me back to my perfect Heavenly Father.

A weekend of blessings, indeed.