DailySusan Humor Blog

PUPPY PARTY

On the next day much people that were come to the feast, when they heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem, took branches of palm trees, and went forth to meet him, and cried, Hosanna: Blessed is the King of Israel that cometh in the name of the Lord.
-- John 12:12,13

I am typing this with my pinkie finger. It is the only one that survived yesterday’s Puppy Party. Since our daughter Maddy is crazy about our new puppy Sunny, and since the indoor gym wanted an incredible $165 just to put on a simple kiddie birthday party, we had it in our home with a puppy theme.

Now I will need to spend far more than $165 on medical care, shock therapy, pitchers of margaritas and jet fare to the Bahamas, to recover from the multisensory assault of 14 hyperventilating 5-year-olds rampaging through my once-peaceful abode.

Don’t get me wrong. We had lots of fun. Big sisters Neely and Eden painted the kids’ faces to look like Dalmatians, beagles, spaniels and Labs. Neely made Puppy Chow and they had to eat it off plates on the floor.

We played “Simon Says.” More enthusiastic wagging, barking, panting and scratching were never experienced this side of the American Kennel Club championship finals.

We decorated a paper “tablecloth” with puppy stickers and rubber stamps, and painted paper-bag puppies with blotches of tempera paint. Then we shared a bone-shaped cake, while the real puppy, whom Neely has nicknamed “Sunny Bone-O,” enjoyed the sizeable quantities that fell on the floor.

But the loudest howls of the two-hour ordeal . . . I mean, party . . . were in the giant cardboard-box doghouse maze in the basement. They raced around on all fours, scrunched through tunnels, and had a giant food fight with Maddy’s plastic kitchen set. Utter bliss for the midget set.

I woke up this morning with my right hand in intense pain, though, because I:

n Slammed my thumb in a drawer looking for the stapler for their collar nametags, rushing around because the first guest came 20 minutes early.

n Cracked off the luxury nail from my forefinger hauling bales of bedding for the Milk Bone dig.

n Sliced open the middle finger at the knuckle with a utility knife making the doghouse maze from cardboard boxes plucked in daring deeds of dumpster diving on the loading docks behind stores.

n Blistered the tip of my ring finger on the hot-glue gun making the paper puppies.

With all these Band-Aids today, my right hand looks like a mummy’s, not a mommy’s.

Now, I know this is a strange analogy. But today is Palm Sunday. On this day, we remember the pageantry, excitement and fun of Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem: the palm leaves waving in the air, the shouts of “Hosanna!” and mass adoration for His miracles and healings.

But at the core, there was a bittersweet reality: after the partying would come pain.

My pain today is only a minute fraction of our Savior’s, of course. But it’s a lesson to me.

I don’t really mind the pain. The party was so much fun for those kids, it’s worth it.

I think that’s how Jesus thinks of the Cross. That Palm Sunday, Jesus knew about the suffering and death He would have to go through to secure the right for believers to be with Him, celebrating, forever.

He went ahead with it, anyway . . . because we are worth it, and He wanted us at His party for all time.

Do we deserve it?

Do we realize what a gift it is?

Do we live every day like Palm Sunday, joyous in His Presence?

Do we thank Him?

This morning, I was making breakfast, left-handed, when Maddy came bounding into the kitchen in her jammies and post-party bedhead. She threw her arms around my legs, and exclaimed:

“Oh, Mommy! Thanks for the party! It was FUNNERIFIC!!!”

I gave her a big squeeze back, with my left hand and my right pinkie. Yes, it was all worth it.

I resolved to spend this week smiling through my pain . . . and thanking Him for His.

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Prayer request: Someone dear to me suffered a sudden cardiac problem about a month ago that deprived her of oxygen for 18 minutes and nearly took her life. Praise God, though, a doctor happened on the scene of her collapse and administered CPR. She is now in rehabilitation and doing much better, although she is not entirely “back” and is continuing to suffer in myriad ways. So is her family, especially her wonderful husband. Oh, Father, send Your smartest and best angels to their side to effect a complete healing, for Your glory, for this precious mother of two. Bring her back to us completely as another miraculous testament to Your love and grace. (Philippians 1:6)