Dogma- One of Many

I have far too much to do right now to be posting this but I'm going to anyway.

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Molly sat crying for me at the door last night. Apparently I slammed the door in her face as I went downstairs for the night. Around midnight, I headed upstairs to brush my teeth and wash my face. The house was silent with snoring but I heard the clacking of Molly's nails against the hardwood as soon as I opened the basement door. I greeted her with a smile and a, "HI PUPPY!" (exclaimed in an extremely high, baby-talk kind of voice) and headed up the second flight of stairs to retrieve my toothbrush. 

She stuck by my heels until I pushed her away as her awkward self got tangled beneath my legs on the second to last step. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, but no Molly. I opened the basement door, expecting to hear her come. Nothing. I called her. First a whisper, then a shout- Molly, Matza, Poopy- no response. 

So, I went to bed.

She slept in the hallway by the door and even though I had shut her out, her wagging tail was the first to greet me in the morning.

I'm sitting here now thinking about how many times I have slammed that door on my God, my Father. How many night has He slept outside my door, crying to come in, to be with me- even if just for a minute. I'm one of those people who NEEDS some alone time for sanity's sake. But what right do I have to push out my Savior, my Sanity, from the one place where we can be quiet and alone. No, not tonight. I'm too busy with my spanish tarea and my old British poems and "Make Me A Supermodel" to be alone with You. Sorry.

I am sorry. You are not a God far off, sleeping on the floor in the hallway, puppy-eyed and rejected. Tonight, please come and stay. I'll leave a blanket and a pillow on the pullout couch. I hope that you don't mind the night light. If that's not enough, I'll make some room. This bed is surely big enough for my Father and I.