Canine Cookie Story

At the moment, my kitchen cabinet is piled with sugar cookies cut into various dog shapes awaiting my girl to return home and ice to her heart's content. Given my recent diagnosis and the girl's undying affection for all things canine, dog cookies seemed far more fitting than fall leaves.

Besides I'm still waiting on fall's real arrival. Here in the deep south, we got lots of false starts to fall.

Then I noticed her.
This poor poodle with her tail broken off and her slightly curled head. Pitiful.

Indulge me a minute while I think through something.

How many times during the day an hour do I think pitiful in relation to myself. Especially during that cursed first hour of the day when staring into a mirror is unavoidable.

I see the scars, more numerous now than ever. I know every single detail of my inmost thoughts about my outer self that lead to the opinion (that is put into strict practice in my home) that full length mirrors have no place in what God intended to be a peaceful refuge, aka: the home.

Then it hit me. This poor poodle, complete with her missing tail and curled up head, in all probability, won't be the one that Gracen slops frosting on and devours because it's "less than".

Nope, it will be the one that she takes cares with. The one that that gets her tail glued back on with edible glue, complete with a bow. Her slightly curled head will make her head the perfect shape for an icing crown.

She will be the one that sports whatever delicious bling Gracen can find in the decorating box.

She will become more than the sum of her parts.

Every time I hurl a curse at myself because, yet again, I've chosen a Dr. Pepper, albeit a diet-caffeine free one, over water. Every time I actually choose choke down the water. Every time I hurl a curse at myself for wasting time on the computer or in front of the television instead of doing something much more useful and constructive with my time. Every time I actually choose to something useful and constructive with my time.

Every single time, with every single "good" and "bad" decision, I am still becoming more than the sum of my parts.

But, of course, I'm luckier than the poodle. The poodle exists to be decorated, even beautifully, and then eaten.

I know that, with each and every decision, good or bad, with each and every scar and flaw, physical and otherwise, I learn a bit more about becoming more than the sum of my parts--I'm learning more about the Creator of those parts. Hopefully, I'm looking more like the Creator and less like the creation.

So very much more than the sum of my parts, thankfully.