It’s been a long week. It feels like tomorrow should be Friday instead of Thursday. Or maybe it’s been a week full of Mondays.

I don’t have any profound answers to give you at the moment, but I do have this video of a fat French bulldog puppy being cuddled.

Enjoy.

Tonight, we started a new series at Kairos called Fear Not. Over and over again, the Bible tells us not to fear, but we’re naturally hardwired in our fallenness to fear and anxiety.

I know in my own experience that people settle for unhealthy relationships over the fear of being alone. They choose to stay in unfulfilling jobs over fear of not being able to provide for their families. They compromise their convictions rather than stand on their principles for fear of what it might cost them and of what others might think.

I’ve known fear well in my lifetime. Fear has often made me choose the safe and familiar over the unknown and the adventurous. Fear keeps me from seeing either me or God in a true light. I don’t hear the voice of my Abba calling me His beloved when anxiety takes hold.

But perfect love casts out fear. God has not given us a spirit of fear but of love and of a sound mind.

Sometimes, you need to speak aloud the thing you fear and name the blood of Jesus over it. Sometimes, you need to pray a simple phrase or sentence over and over, like “Abba Father, I belong to You,” or “Jesus, protect me.”

Fear may be the natural response but it doesn’t have to be your normal mode of existence any longer. Fear is false evidence appearing real, and only the truth of God as found in Jesus can drive it out.

Is it wrong for me to be counting down the days until fall when it’s not even officially summer yet?

I know that I’m supposed to be thankful in all circumstances, but I’m much more inclined to be grateful when I’m not walking into a furnace every time I go outside.

I’m not a hot weather person. I don’t mind summer as long as it’s mild and/or there’s a substantial body of water nearby, like a lake or an ocean.

I’ve made no secret about being a fall person. I love just about everything about Autumn, from the crisp weather and changing leaves to all the holidays that come with it, including pumpkin spice and apple cider and bonfires and hayrides.

I generally like summer for about two weeks, then I’m over the hot sweaty mugginess (and I do sweat profusely– I think it’s one of my spiritual gifts). Summer is like the unwelcome house guest that doesn’t know when to leave, despite all the subtle and not-so-subtle hint dropping.

All the things that made summer great for me as a kid don’t really apply to me anymore. I don’t get to leave my job for two months and take extended vacations or look forward to day after day with little to no plans and only my imagination to guide me.

The traffic’s slightly less horrendous, so there’s a small plus.

For me at my current stage in life, summer is all about wearing Hawaiian shirts as often as possible, finding out where the nearest a/c unit is, and staying hydrated.

I do like summer. Admittedly, I’d like it far better if I could feel wet sand between my toes and ocean waves lapping at my feet.

For the record, there are 130 days, 22 hours, and 27 minutes until the start of fall. Not that I’m counting.

I heard an old song recently that made me think of my grandmother Ruby. I’m sure she would have loved it (and loved the fact that I’m listening to big band music). It may not be the most theologically accurate song ever, but I think the sentiment fits:

I’m not sure why I’m so tired. All I did today was visit a record store and a couple of thrift shops. And cut the grass. And have some pretty fantastic Mexican food for lunch.

My old Jeep did alright today. It had plenty of pep when I needed it and got me all the places I wanted to go. Not bad for a 21-year old car that’s now considered a salvage vehicle.

At the end of the day, I’m the good kind of tired and feel very blessed for a day of rest and relaxation. Except for all the driving around and cutting the grass. But for the most part it was restful. For the most part.

SONY DSC

I’m not gonna lie. Even though I have a new cat that’s playful, affectionate, and wonderful, I still miss this ol’ gal. Even after almost 11 months, I miss her quiet little presence toward the end of the day.

I admit she could at times be a rascal and a stinker, but her therapy sessions and head butts more than made up for it. She had her daily routine that almost always included curling up in my lap and sleeping next to me every night.

Oh, and she was pretty. But I may be a little biased.

And she was mine.

Peanut loves her some belly rubs. That’s a definite difference between her and my last cat, Lucy, who did not appreciate any kind of belly rub in the least, unless she was almost comatose with sleep.

But not Peanut. She will roll over as if inviting me to pet her belly, then purr.

I think my takeaway from all this isn’t overly complicated or sophisticated. Every day, do one little thing that makes you happy. Just one.

It might be petting a cat or a dog. It might be acting silly with your kids. It might just be an ice cream cone.

Maybe the next step is to go do something for someone else to make that person happy. Just maybe.

In the mean time, I’ll keep giving Peanut her belly rubs. It’s so nice to be kneaded.