Saturday, January 8, 2011


Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort,
2 Corinthians 1:3
The God of all comfort; I love that name.

This Christmas I received the gift of comfort. He is curled up at my feet as I type and he returns home to his family tomorrow.  But even if this was a loan it has been a gift to me.

Fresh on the heels of my recent loss I have had someone to

create a cozy corner for,


with nametag.

A lil’ bit of comfort to accompany me to the mall

even if he was bored to puppy dog yawns by a sale at Bath & Bodyworks.

Company for hours in the kitchen,

soaking up sun

as I spent days on end cooking and baking for the holidays,

and even once in a while demonstrating how his twitchy nose snorkels for snacks.

Comfort making me laugh by chewing, fetching, fighting

and cradling his new toys.

Comfort while celebrating Christmas:

helping to open gifts

and resting up after energetically shredding wrapping paper.

A guardian to keep the birds off of the balcony,

to hunt lizards in my yard,

and while I have no picture of this, I even had a comforting protector in the middle of the night loudly threatening bodily harm to any rats scrabbling on my roof trying to find a way into my attic.

There was also a cute boy to thoroughly investigate and protect me from the dangers of a ticking clock in the living room.

I again had my own furry supermodel

posing for pretty pictures.

I reveled in toasty cuddles while watching movies or working on the computer.

A sweet face patiently waited for me each time I left the house.

And at the end of a long day comfort was found sleeping on the end of my bed

or even curled up with me under the covers.

Thanks be to the God of Comfort. And thanks, sweet boy!
Blog Med Sig 4

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