192. The gift of Celebrating My Sister's Birthday - it's actually tomorrow, but we had a family celebration at my parents' house this afternoon and evening. I love my sister so much!
193. The gift of A Patient Husband and Patient Boys. Today our church time was extended, due to my involvement in our Women's Ministry Event . . . I spent the morning working with a team of women on a special decorations project; that meant an extra hour or two for my family to "wait". They are so good to me.
194. The gift of a book, called Every Day Deserves a Chance, by Max Lucado. Max Lucado is one of my favorite authors - I find myself having a hard time putting his books down when I read them. I hope to read them all one day . . . yesterday I picked up a book of his that a friend gave me several years ago. I'm not sure if I ever finished reading it back then, but I'm glad I re-discovered the book. It fits in perfectly with my desire to be grateful for each day in 2012, encouraging me to "wake up to the gift of 24 hours". The following is part of the book which I found humorous, taken from Chapter 3 - Gratitude for Ungrateful Days.
"Excerpts from the diary of a dog:
8:00 a.m. Oh boy, dog food – my favorite.
9:30 a.m. Oh boy, a car ride – my favorite.
9:40 a.m. Oh boy, a walk – my favorite.
10:30 a.m. Oh boy, another car ride – my favorite.
11:30 a.m. Oh boy, more dog food – my favorite.
12:00 p.m. Oh boy, the kids – my favorite.
1:00 p.m. Oh boy, the yard – my favorite.
4:00 p.m. Oh boy, the kids again – my favorite.
5:00 p.m. Oh boy, dog food again – my favorite.
5:30 p.m. Oh boy, Mom – my favorite.
6:00 p.m. Oh boy, playing ball – my favorite.
8:30 p.m. Oh boy, sleeping in my master’s bed – my favorite.
Excerpts from the diary of a cat:
Day 283 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat while I’m forced to eat dry cereal. I’m sustained by the hope of escape and the mild satisfaction I derive from ruining a few pieces of furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant. I attempted to kill my captors this morning by weaving through their walking feet. Nearly succeeded. Must try this strategy at the top of the stairs. Seeking to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite chair. Must try this on their bed. To display my diabolical disposition, I decapitated a mouse and deposited the headless body on their kitchen floor. They only cooed and condescended, patting my head and calling me a “strong little kitty.” Hmm – not working according to plan. During a gathering of their accomplices, they placed me in solitary confinement. I overheard that my confinement was due to my power of allergies. Must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.
I am convinced the other household captives are flunkies, perhaps snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems naively happy to return. He is, no doubt, a half-wit. The bird speaks with the humans regularly. Must be an informant. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal cage, his safety is assured, but I can wait. It is only a matter of time.
The day of a dog. The day of a cat. One content, the other conniving. One at peace, the other at war. One grateful, the other grumpy. Same house. Same circumstances. Same master. yet two entirely different attitudes.
Which diary reads more like yours? Were your private thoughts made public, how often would the phrase “Oh boy, my favorite” appear?"
~Max Lucado, Every Day Deserves a Chance~