3 minutes

“He satisfies me with good / He fills my life with good things.”
Psalm 103:5

My mom adored and sort of personified dogs. Her strategy from their first slobbery lick, excited jump, or unruly barking episode was to drown them in kindness and spoiling. I remember mom making french toast for her basset hounds and holding their long ears back while they enjoyed their breakfast so their fur wouldn’t get sticky from the syrup.
I didn’t inherit the “feed and treat dogs like people” gene.

Our daughter’s dog Greta had been the sweetest, snuggliest puppy in the litter. But, unfortunately, she was also the only puppy with allergy issues. Perhaps it was from all of the raw eggs stolen and devoured from our chicken coop that Greta developed a significant allergy to eggs. And possibly chicken. And who knows what else.
One of the consequences of Greta’s digestive challenges and allergies was that she was on a strict, dry-dog-food-only diet. No table scraps. Ever. For her own good.

And so, a few summers ago, with no other options and a bit of trepidation, we entrusted our lab, Greta, to the care of my mom for one and a half weeks. Leaving for vacation, we turned our dog over to my mom with written instructions involving clear communication that Greta should only be fed the dog food which was sent with her.

When I picked her up ten days after dropping her off, her eyes were watery and goopy red. And there was a cut near her eyelid where she had been vigorously scratching her itchy eyes. It turns out our pup had been fed all manner of human food for a week and a half. Her digestive system, which was accustomed to only hard kibbles, was retaliating. Mom enthusiastically assured me that Greta loved every morsel she’d been fed.

Glancing at our pup resting leisurely on mom’s couch, I perceived an air of entitlement. I’m not kidding. She was an outdoor dog who had quickly become comfortably accustomed to sleeping in a bed by night, resting on the sofa by day, and for her dining pleasure, she had daily been hand-fed freshly grilled chicken.

Understandably, Greta wanted to stay with my mom, and she was resistant to get into our car.

Arriving home, she was visibly sullen as she went into our garage to go to her “bed” for her first night back. The following morning with ears perked, she sat in eager anticipation of breakfast. I dumped a scoop of dry dog food into her bowl. She watched it land in her bowl and sat staring at it. And then she did it. She looked up at me in expectation, waiting for her chicken or scrambled eggs to drop. She looked back down at her bowl and then slowly back up at me.
For the next TWO days, she didn’t eat so much as a morsel from her bowl.
On the third day, hunger overtook her stubbornness, and she gingerly started picking through her bowl, nibbling a few bites.

Earlier this year, I wrote in A Heart Inclined To Hoard (1-29-21) about waking in the morning in expectation of manna, God’s provision, falling.
Yes, waiting on God and watching for His provision is sacred work.

Yet, herein lies part two and an equally sacred work:

Choosing to be satisfied with what falls from heaven and having eyes to see God’s heavenly provision as good.

Today I’m thinking about how sometimes when our manna falls, it doesn’t look like what we were hoping for. It might not look like fresh grilled chicken, Greta.
The truth is, even if I wanted to give Greta grilled chicken and scrambled eggs, that wasn’t what would be best for her. That kind of food brought harm to her.

Greta had needs and wants.
You and I have needs and wants.
In fact, the Israelites in Jesus time had needs and wants. They wanted the political kingdom of Israel to be restored. So they prayed and watched and waited in expectation of this. But instead of getting what they were hoping for and expecting, a baby named Jesus showed up in a manger.

To God’s eternal glory, we can be profoundly thankful we sometimes DON’T get what we want and hope for.

We lay our requests, our needs, and our wants at the feet of Jesus.
And then, while we wait and watch, God does His sanctifying work in us so that we learn increasingly to trust our heavenly Father, the Giver of good, Who fills our lives with good things.