Irreplaceable

Well, Doggie 2’s rattle came out effortlessly. (The velcro is another story… my surgical skills on plush animals have their limits). But, when I got ready to sew up the incision site, I realized that, shamefully, I don’t own a needle or thread. Now if you want a calligraphy pen, a paper cutter, or any shade of artist pencil, I’m your girl. Just don’t come here looking for pins and needles. When I called my mom to see if I could borrow the necessary sewing supplies, she was so shocked and appalled at my lack of domestic prowess that, in her pity, she actually performed the sew-up herself. (My secret plan from the beginning…)

So, with Doggie 2 looking good and feeling relieved to have the clamor of a rattle out of his head, I tried again to establish a bond between him and Toddler 2. No such luck. She did give him a longer look this time. She even affectionately referred to him as “Doggie” and carefully laid him on the couch (an improvement from forcefully throwing him on the floor). But, later in the evening when she was victimized by her sister and felt that familiar need for the comfort and security of her beloved animal and paci, she again demanded nothing but the original. I am slowly accepting it… Doggie 1 is irreplaceable.

I figure there’s a life lesson in here somewhere. So, here’s my best shot…

The thing that makes Toddler 2 so very attached to her beloved Doggie is her intimate knowledge of him. She knows how he looks, how he smells, how he feels in her arms. She needs him and she loves him. She’s hardly even tempted by an impostor because she is so intimately acquainted with the original. She accepts nothing less than the real deal. He is the one and only. He may not be new and fluffy, but he’s familiar and comforting and absolutely irreplaceable.

And, so, I’m reminded:

“I am God, the only God you’ve had or ever will have–incomparable, irreplaceable.” (Isaiah 46:9; the Message)