Yesterday morning as I was enjoying my first cup of coffee, I glanced down at Wrigley diligently chewing her Nyla bone. Although she appeared totally relaxed atop her regal pink fleece (alongside Her Magesty's court-appointed comrades), I was impressed with her determined, focused chewing. Quite frankly, the $3.00 I'd spent just two weeks ago on that Nyla bone was pretty well spent as she continued to shred it apart.
As I think about it, I have my own Nyla bone. Not literally, of course, but figuratively. Wrigley's bone in many ways symbolizes her passion, her delight, her place of safety.
I don't mean to sound sacrilegious, quite the contrary, but I would venture to say my "Nyla bone" is my search for God.
I would expect that many who know me would describe me as a "religious person." I don't like that tag and here's why. I have gone to church all my life. Being "good" is spiritually not enough for this wild 'n crazy grandma.
In my spiritual life, I crave the REAL DEAL. And that amounts to the person of God. I want to know Him; I don't simply want to know about God. I desire to talk with Him, to have Him speak to me. I guess you could say I want an intimate relationship with the living God.
Now that is something I could be passionate about, delight in, and feel extraordinarily safe!!!
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