We have two dogs. Piper is a gorgeous dachshund mix with glossy black and brown fur, and the softest brown eyes. All of thirty pounds, Piper carries herself with attitude of a prizefighter. She's about four years old, and still has most of the exuberance of the puppy that we fell in love with.

Sundae is a stunning merle great dane. She's mostly white, with black and brown spots down one side of her body, and crystal clear blue eye. For all of her size, she is still as gentle as a kitten. However, at around one hundred pounds, and barely over a year old, she can be quite a handful at times. Though I'm not a father yet, I imagine that the two of them make me feel as much like a father as I ever will until I actually am a proud daddy.

One of the girls' favorite pastimes is to play fetch. We have a long yard along the side of our house, and during the warmer months it is ideally suited for a rousing game of fetch. Being a little older and more experienced, Piper is very good at the game. I can lob their ball as hard as I like, and Piper will chase it clear to the other end of the yard, little legs a blur under her long body, and bring it back nearly every time. Sundae is not nearly as well versed in the fine art of fetching; she seems to think of it less as retrieve and return, and more like a game of keep away. But we're working on that.

Over the past few months I've noticed some interesting trends in their behavior while playing fetch. While they will both almost always hound after the ball as if their lives depended on it, sometimes their behavior after finally catching it seems counterintuitive to a game of fetch. Here's what I mean.

While I know that they both love it; the feeling of the grass under their paws, the wind rushing past their ears as they lay chase, and the praise that they always get from me when they successfully retrieve it, I'm not always sure that they are so clear about their own motivations.

Sundae will gracefully trot after it, quite daintily decide if she really wants to pick it up, and with her head held high she will saunter back with it, looking for the entire world like a prize winning thoroughbred just showing off. But once she's brought it back, she almost never wants to let go of it. Now, the fact of the matter is that most of the time, I just want to continue the game. Eventually, the game does have to end, but I'm not going to take it away from her just to be mean. She doesn't trust that if she allows me to take it away, I will throw it for her again, and so I wind up forced to corner her and pry it from her grasp. She doesn't trust that I have something better in store than what she already has.

On the other end of the spectrum, Piper makes no pretense about what she wants. I think I could toss the ball all day for her, and she would chase it till her little heart gave out from exhaustion. She'll wear herself out in minutes because she doesn't pace herself. She pursues that ball like a lion pursues it's prey; with unbridled exuberance and joy in the freedom of the hunt. She'll wrench the poor piece of rubber from the grip of the Earth, and like a receiver with twenty seconds left on the clock in the superbowl, she races back with a death grip on the ball. No one will take it away from her till she has crossed the goal line.

But once she does bring it back, there's Sundae. Sundae wants the ball too. Piper knows that Sundae is just waiting for her to drop the ball so she can steal it away. So Piper darts back and forth, looking for an opening; unwilling to let me take it from her. She knows that I want to throw it again, but she doesn't trust that if she would just drop it, I'll be there to keep Sundae at bay, and keep the game going.

I see in my girls much of what I think God must see in me.

So often I see God's hand tossing me what I desperately want, but I don't chase it with passion. Instead, I'll nonchalantly trot after it, hoping it will still be there by the time I arrive. And much like Sundae, once I've found it, I'm not so sure that I actually want to mess with it. Occasionally, I'm more like Piper. I'm super aware that it is out there, and I exhaust myself racing around looking for it, and within a very short time I've spent all my energy, and I'm no good for anything else.

More often than not, once I've finally found it, I just don't want to let go of it. I don't trust that God has something much better in store for me, if I would just give it to him; so I play keep away. Either that, or I'm too aware of the world that is just waiting for me to drop the ball, and take away what I have been so passionate about. So I dart back and forth, hoping to find my own way. I don't trust God's heart; that if I would be willing to just drop it at his feet, that he'll take care of the details, and keep the game going.

Dear Lord, forgive me for the times when I don't pursue you passionately enough. And forgive me for the times when I wear myself to a frazzle trying to find what you have to give. I spend so much time either trying to keep away from you, or trying to find my own path; to make it through on my own. Help me to be willing to give it up to you, drop it at your feet, and let you work out the details. Most of all, help me to trust your heart. I know that I will find much more freedom and joy if I will release my grip, and let you take it away, so that you can give it back to me. Please train my heart to depend on your goodness, and not my own desperation.