A fragrance or a stench?

Bruce had warned me that Salsa would need a bath when I got home from work tonight. The recent rains have made her path in our back yard muddy, and she romps through it with joyful abandon.

Today she smelled like she had rolled around in a cow pasture, he said.

The second I walked in the door, I thought of a different word for it: stench.

She stank like a person who hadn’t bathed in several days, had sweated and the sweat had dried, and then had sweated some more, developing what my colorful friend Helaine would call “a funk.”

Salsa always bites me when I try to pick her up for a bath. Then she bites me while I’m bathing her. Bites me, her “Mama,” the one who has nurtured her, fed her and given her refuge since the day I brought her home from the shelter. But I still love her.

Later this evening, as I was writing tomorrow’s post for my church’s daily Shaped by Scripture blog, my mind went back to Salsa and bath time. And me and my attitude toward my Creator.

I’ve been treating Him as though He doesn’t know what’s best for me. Him, the Creator of the universe, the One who has nurtured me, fed me (physically, spiritually, emotionally and in all other ways) and given me refuge since the day he pulled me out of the mud pit of my sin, where I have chosen to return and have been wallowing lately.

Acting like I deserve better than where he is allowing me to be right now. Biting His hand every time He reaches down to cleanse me. But He still loves me.

Just as it was time for Salsa to come in out of the mud and have a bath, it’s time for me to stop wallowing in self-pity and let Him cleanse me.

I want to be a fragrance, not a stench.

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