Thursday, January 22, 2009

Playing Favorites

Meet Glory Mounce... Glory-Belle Mounce to be exact. Not sure when, why or how her seconday name came to be, but it stuck.

Neither one of my kids have special endearing nicknames but my dog does. And for the record, JT and W don't count as endearing. Functional in a 'sprig-of-hay-in-your-teeth kind of way, but not particularly cute or fun. On the field, John Tyler is Mighty Mounce, but if we called him that around the house, we'd have to hire a contractor to enlarge the width of our door framings to accomodate his big head. And Weston thinks his nickname is Crash, but not something we broadcast in public. I'm just keepin' it real, folks.

There is just something about raising a dog that teaches you something. Glory is the first puppy I raised all by myself. I knew she was really going to be MY dog when we made the decision to bring her home for the boys 3 years ago. She is just love on a stick.

One of the things I love most about her is everything is her favorite. Her food she eats every day; her favorite. Walks to the bus stop each morning or every night after the boys are in bed; her favorite. Her blue water Kong and Nylabone; her favorite. Playing chase with Tray; her favorite.

My point? My dog lives in the moment. She enjoys all the things that make up her life as a dog in the Mounce Family. How unfortunate that a 3-year-old canine has grasped one of the greatest gifts of life that I struggle with at 35.

But I saved the best for last. My favorite Glory trait? She is thrilled beyond words to see her family each morning. It is as if she forgets we exist while she is sleeping and when she sees we are really still in her house as the morning light breaks...JACKPOT!

I want that for my family. I want them to know that I am thrilled beyond words that I have another day to live life with them; another day to live out the plans our God has for us; another day to choose to serve Him and shine His light to others.

I thought it so fitting that Bush's daughters's wrote a letter to Obama's daugthers, just as their father had done and left in the Oval office. They spoke of experiencing every moment possible because 4 years passes so quickly and treasuring the magic of the White House. But the piece of advice that stuck with me was their urging to cherish their pet because sometimes you'll need the quiet comfort that only they can provide.

I couldn't agree more. I've learned so much through the only other girl in my house that doesn't say a word. How's that for an oxymoron?