I’m a big dog girl.
I grew up with a 50-pound Samoyed, Nikki.
Our first dog as newlyweds was a big black Labrador Retriever.
Shatzi, my Keeshond, only tips the scales at 35 pounds, but since most of that is fur, she looks like a big dog.
In our household, we call the toy breeds “squeaky toys.”
Anything smaller than our smallest cat simply can not be taken seriously as a canine.
Years ago, in Shatzi’s puppy class, we met an itsy-bitsy chihuahua named Chiquita. This teacup mite weighed a few ounces and shook violently if anyone looked in her direction.
While all the other puppies learned to sit, stay, and come, Chiquita’s big accomplishment at the end of eight weeks was spending a few seconds nose-to-nose with Alexander, the 40-pound German Shepard puppy, without puddling in fear.
Did I mention that I am a big dog girl?
(Keep in mind: I am a big dog girl.)
When the counselor who leads my eating disorder group explained to us last year, “Each woman has her own unique sensitivity and reactivity. Some are like big bold German Shepherds while others are like little timid Chihuahuas.”
No, no, no.
I am a big dog girl!
I refuse to be a Chihuahua!
I am NOT a squeaky toy!
I want to be a big bold German Shepherd!!!
I Want to be a Big Dog
This morning, I read this Tweet from Mary DeMuth, a Christian author and speaker I greatly admire:
I want to live an outward life that blesses others, not an inward-looking life where I obsess over my shortcomings.
No, no, no.
I am a big dog girl!
I don’t want to be a squeaky toy!
I don’t want to be an inward-looking obsesser who focuses on her shortcomings!
I want to “live an outward life that blesses others”!
I am a Little Dog
In my quiet time this morning, I read Mark’s account of the widow’s offering.
Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.
Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”
Mark 12:41-44 (NIV)
And it struck me:
I know about giving out of poverty.
I know about watching strong Christian speakers who have their lives together and marriages together and parenting together and big beautiful hair all together and wishing so desperately I could have what they have so I could give what they give in such abundance.
I desperately want to be a German Shepherd: big and bold for Christ!
That’s pretty much everything: my life in a nutshell.
I’m a timid trembly teacup Chihuahua whose big accomplishment on any given day is not being reduced to a puddle of tears.
Yet when I give Him all of what little I have — all I have to live on — He considers my worthless gifts greater than all the others?
This makes no sense to me.
But my heart leapt this morning at the thought it just might be true:
- I don’t need to keep trying to be a big dog.
- I don’t need to be ashamed of being a shaky little dog.
- All I need to do is give him all I’ve got.
And trust Him to do the rest!
Be strong and take heart all you who hope in the Lord.
- What makes you feel like a tiny teacup chihuahua in a world full of big bold German Shepherds?
- What are your “two very small copper coins”?
- Anything else on your heart!