Routine

Dusty disgraced herself last night.

She was waiting anxiously by the back door to be let out at 7, a sure sign of trouble. Usually she is lolling on the couch in some undignified sprawl. Not this morning. Guilt and shame robbed her of peace. She couldn’t relax.

And there it was, by the living room door. A wet patch. No hiding it. There for all to see.

She had a good run yesterday morning, up the west walk at the castle, leaping for sticks tossed into the trickle of a burn. 

Such a good walk that I thought in the afternoon, a bit of football playing might do. 

But the wet patch says it all. Football may be fun, but it doesn’t take care of what needs taking care of.

Routine. It kind of chafes, but then again, our physical bodies get used to it. When our routine is broken, we sometimes have problems.

And what about our spirits? 

This spiritual MOT I’m undertaking is revealing that more discipline in establishing a spiritual routine would be good for me.  A daily download of my sins before my Maker would ensure tomorrow’s progress would be just that – progress – and not a guilty looking back over my shoulder at the wet patches staining my soul.

I’ve forgiven Dusty for her wet patch. She’s back in the house, seeking a spot where the sun shines warm, having done her time out in the cold.

She chose to pay penance in the cold, just as I do when I don’t ask for, and accept, God’s forgiveness for my infractions. 

He’s waiting to welcome me back into the warmth of his presence. How many times do I need to be reminded, before it will become a real routine?