hopeless.

word of the day: hopeless \ˈhō-pləs\ incapable of redemption or improvement

As you may recall, Ginny is a pretty high maintenance dog. She follows me around the house without hesitation. If I even shift my weight on the couch, her head is on high alert, and as soon as I stand to my feet, she does the same. In the morning, while I'm getting ready, she watches me from the corner of her eye. If she hasn't heard me move for awhile, she'll lift her head just to make sure I'm still there. You can imagine, then, that leaving her alone is not an easy task. She has to be carried to her kennel, and then her barking, whining, pawing, and shaking must be ignored in order to get out the door and on with the day.

To say the least, sometimes it's a bit frustrating, because I just can't figure out how to fix my poor dog.

But, then, just when I'm at my wit's end with her, I remember the first time I saw her behind the glass at the Animal Rescue League on that cold, uninviting tile:



When I remember those initial sad eyes and the hopelessness that she radiated through the glass, my frustration melts away almost instantly. She needs me, and that's enough reason for me to look past her shortcomings as a dog.

I've recently been realizing my own shortcomings lately. I've seen my tendency to use my own self-pity as a license to be insensitive to the feelings of other people. I've seen specific times when I've lacked compassion and allowed bitterness to grow within me.

Although necessary, it's never fun to come face to face with your own sin, because, for me, it comes with feelings of shame and hopelessness. It's shameful to know that I've acted in a way that dishonors God and the hopelessness sets in when I think about making the situation right. Can I really change a character trait I have been fighting against my whole life?

That's when I remembered the picture of Ginny behind the glass. Just when I think God can't possibly forgive this recurring sin, I remember her sad eyes and how they always dissipate my disappointment. It's then that I wonder whether or not God has His own picture of me behind a glass wall. A picture of the hopelessness of my soul before He redeemed me. A picture of our separation before He was such an important aspect of my life.

Now, I'm not trying to open a theological can of worms or even suggest that the simple fact of my pathetic, sinful nature is enough to rescue me. I just can't help but wonder if God is ever reminded of who I was before He entered my life. If He ever smiles thinking about my own sad eyes and how He is the one who replaced them with hope.

Jake seems to think that we'll never fix Ginny. He's convinced that we'll be washing pee off of her feet for the rest of our lives. That may be the case, but either way, I think we'll be ok. There's always hope, right?