In the Shadows

I was just going out to check the mail and started to call for the dog. She liked to go out anytime I did. This morning the sun was shining on the hallway floor outside my door when I got up. I expected to see the dog lying there in the sun. She is gone, but not really. She lingers in the shadows of the house; from the corner of the kitchen window I think I see her on the porch, I hear her nails clicking on the wooden floor, and I reach for her by my knee when I sit on the couch. A shadowy figure slinking through my memory.
Our assignment for this month is to tell others what God has done for us. Shadows are one of his gifts. The first gift is love. His ultimate gift of love was in self-sacrifice, but how can I understand that 2,000 years later? I see glimpses of it in the love that surrounds me. My memory is the second gift. Those who have loved and left me already, grandparents, friends, my dog, all have something to teach me about the way God loves me. And I don't forget.
I feel my grandmother's fingers in my hair as she braids it before school. I see Papaw cutting an apple for me with his pen knife. I smell ham frying in the iron skillet and know Grandma will welcome me at the table. The other Papaw, gone the longest, still embraces me as I enter his house. I was always loved, welcomed, and cherished.
Some might say those are my grandparents, of course I have those loving memories. But my husband's grandparents taught me about God's adoptive love by always treating me as if I always belonged to them. I was hugged and kissed, embraced and welcomed into their homes and families. My Lord never showed any less love to me than any of his other children, either.
And my dog? My dog has taught me that God really only sees the good in me. He fully forgives me whenever I repent. How do I know? Because I love my dog and have already nearly forgotten the dog hair, the spitting up on the floor, the mud on my newly mopped hardwoods, the cement encrusted feet after running to the neighborhood down the road.
If she were to walk onto the porch this minute, I would welcome Kelly back into the house. And I know God, too,  will one day forgive all my sins and call me out of the shadows and into the light of His home forever. That is where Love will not be a memory, but a constant gift that never runs out.