“For, after all, put it as we may to ourselves, we are all of us from birth to death guests at a table which we did not spread.  The sun, the earth, love, friends, our very breath are parts of the banquet.... Shall we think of the day as a chance to come nearer to our Host, and to find out something of Him who has fed us so long?”  ~ Rebecca Harding Davis

Passing the ice cream store recently I noticed something unusual – a number of Great Danes standing outside the entrance as if they were waiting in line for a treat. I chuckled at the image of them striding up and resting their big heads on the counter while their owners ordered them a large vanilla cone, Then I recognized the name of a Great Dane rescue organization on the banner hanging from a table nearby, and realized it was an adoption event,

I haven’t seen a Great Dane in a long time, probably not since my son and daughter-in-law brought one home from a similar organization to their little apartment, where they nursed and nurtured this abandoned, disturbingly skinny Snuffleupagus of Great Danes back to health. He shared apartment space with his counterpart, a feisty little Schnauzer, and two ferrets.

Talk about a full house.

Years later my son and his wife would welcome another Great Dane just hours from her being euthanized, to nourish and nurture her, as well, until she was ready to be put up for adoption.

No longer in an apartment, this new pony-sized pup had more room to roam, but she was so weak and emaciated from a lack of care, she had trouble walking and was grateful for the generous couch where she could stretch out her body and be showered with attention and affection, plied with high quality food and, eventually, learn to play.

Looking at a photo of her gaunt body, I imagined the dogs in Scripture who scavenge under the table for scraps, dropped by the children who were fed first, and best. Fortunately, these two Great Danes no longer had to scavenge for scraps. They thrived under the care of my children, who eventually had children of their own, and who understand that real love provides more than leftovers.

It is a lesson suited not only to how we love our pets, our spouses, our children, or our friends, but, most importantly, our God.

Recalling the words from Deuteronomy, Jesus taught, “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.” He did not say love the Lord in bits in pieces, a little here, a little there, when the mood strikes, or when we can find room in our hearts, or our lives.

Jesus calls us to understand, and the saints remind us, that loving God requires complete abandonment to God’s will; an acceptance of the joy and struggles, but always with gratitude.

That can be a real challenge.

St. Francis de Sales pointed out that “many people say to our Lord, ‘I give myself wholly to thee without any reserve,’ but very few actually practice this self-abandonment.” 

Many of us, perhaps more often than we’d like, fall into that category of people who truly want to serve God, but mostly in an advisory capacity. Still, St. Francis encourages us to not give up trying to love God better.

He writes, “You learn to speak by speaking, to study by studying, to run by running, to work by working; and just so you learn to love God and man by loving. Begin as a mere apprentice and the very power of love will lead you on to become a master of the art.”

One of the amazing things about saints is they know how to take a plate of leftovers and transform it into a five-star meal.

Mary Morrell is an award-winning writer, editor and educator working at Wellspring Communications.  She can be reached at [email protected], and read at her blog,’ God Talk and Tea.’