Transitory Psychosis

Matthew Henry

Last night, as I faced a rather thorny biblical passage, I searched several books for an answer. I finally found it in Matthew Henry’s Commentary on the Old and New Testaments. When I was placing the book back on the shelf I thought once again, “Matthew, my brother, the English-speaking part of the body of Christ owes you a great debt.” Henry died in 1714, nearly three centuries ago. In the providence of God, He left a written work that is still in use today.
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Most days I like raisins. The little wrinkled snacks are alright . . . most of the time. I’ve eaten these little dried grapes as long as I remember. I’ve always liked them in my breakfast cereal (although I confess I have enjoyed the sugar-crusted ones the most). They are an important part of an oatmeal raisin cookie too. Without them, the cookie tastes a lot like yesterday’s oatmeal. They add a nice touch to several other snacks as well.

An added benefit is that they are good for you! “Fat free, high in potassium, and cholesterol free”–or so the box says. They are even fairly low in calories (not rice cakes, you understand, but not a Snickers bar either). They also contain a bit of Calcium and Iron.
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I’ve been a “bachelor” for few days now. My wife is away visiting her sister. That means I’m doing stuff I don’t normally do–like caring for Lola, our dog. (I’ve blogged about her before.) Lola loves routine.

Each morning when the alarm goes off, my wife turns it off and sits on the side of the bed. Lola comes, lays at her feet, and rolls on her back so Dianna can scratch her belly. After that, Lola jumps up and heads for the back door to go out. For the last few days, a key player in that routine has been out of town.

This morning, I awakened to the alarm and turned it off, but Lola didn’t budge. I tried the “key” words (“potty” and “peepee,”), but Lola just stared at me. I tried them again in a high pitched voice. (I’ve always contended that dogs respond to vocal pitch rather than words. And, yes, I felt stupid.) She didn’t move a muscle. I shrugged.

A few minutes later I started to make the bed. Lola was on it by then and wouldn’t budge. I was about to order her off the bed when she rolled over in that “pet my tummy” mode. I obliged for a minute, but as soon as I stopped she jumped up and ran toward the backdoor. She was ready to go out. I laughed. The dog is so committed to her routine that she wasn’t about to go out until I fulfilled my part.

Dogs aren’t the only ones who love routine. We human beings can be pretty committed to our own.
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