“Honey, come look,” I said as I stood by the window and pointed to Bo, our Labrador Retriever.
“Whatâ€™s he doing?”
“Heâ€™s digging a hole and burying the bone I gave him yesterday.”
Bo dropped his large bone into the hole and shoved the loose dirt with his paws until the ground was level again. Then he pushed some dried leaves over the burial site with his nose.
“I canâ€™t believe it. Canine camouflage!” I said as Bo retreated to his favorite resting place – knowing his treasure was safe.
Later, Ranger, our Rat Terrier, bolted out the back door. He sniffed the morning breeze. Then he meandered through the yard until he came to the spot hiding Boâ€™s prize. Leaves and dirt flew upward as his head and front legs disappeared into the ground. Finally, he pried the bone loose from the soil and pranced around the yard in a swaggering two-step. Bo looked at him with sullen eyes.
Sometimes I dig up bones – especially when Iâ€™m angry. For instance, when someone says something hurtful, my human instinct quickly digs through the past. In the dirt, if I search long enough, I find a mistake, a broken promise or a repented sin. I reach for one and shake off the dust. My brain replays the event, but suddenly I remember 1 Peter 3:9. â€œDo not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing.â€
I bite my tongue realizing that mentally digging up the past is a choice. I must forget what is behind and strain toward what is ahead (Philippians 3:13).
Help me Lord . . . from now on, no more digging!