Colossians: Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer everyone.
Lucy after the snowfall, before the melt. Buckets directly behind her.
How I wish I lived up to today's verse every day. What would it be like always to have your speech be gracious? To have just the right words for the seasoning with salt?
I may have mentioned how my neighbor's barking dogs set off my barking dogs, and all hell breaks loose. Last year, a friend built a solid fence between the lots. I thought it would offer privacy to the neighbors and cut down on the barking. Not so. There's definitely been digging on my side of the fence, so I've barricaded those areas with five-gallon, ugly buckets which, until lately (yesterday), have been frozen to the ground.
Yesterday was so warm that everything started melting, ushering in mud season. It's a real season here and in most western areas. It's not pretty. You need muck boots for a reason. It can get deep.
My dogs have torn up my yard to such an extent that the grass seed won't do a thing. If I want grass again, it will likely have to be in the form of sod. For the time being, it's a mud pit in the midst of mud season, so when they started barking, it set off the ring notification. Usually, I can raise my voice, and they'll stop barking, but last evening they were in such a frenzy that I had to go home and put them inside the house. Only, they were soooooooo muddy from the barking/digging frenzy that I couldn't leave them inside, so I put them in the car, and they came with me.
"Are you going to give them a bath," my daughter asked.
"Arghhhh, I don't know," I answered sharply. I was so bugged, and the last thing I wanted to do was to give them a bath, but they were filthy, so I did. I was snippy toward the dogs and my daughter. My speech had no seasoning or graciousness, only ugliness, and my daughter called me out. Arghhh.
Family members have asked if it's worth having the dogs, and last night it was questionable. Looking at the poop-filled yard, I wonder if it's worth it. Last night they slept in the kitchen as opposed to on the bed, not because the jury is still out, but because I needed a good night's sleep, and at the end of the day, they are dogs. Lucy looked up at me with sorrowful eyes. Rudy crawled between my feet, looked up with sorrowful eyes, and snatched his ball for a round of kitchen fetch.
Today, as we approach Good Friday, may we be extra aware of what comes out of our mouths, and may our words be filled with graciousness and seasoning.
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