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Dibs

Life runs roughshod over me at times. I don't know if I'm doing this thing right and it seems that everything around me is pointing at my failures like enormous, blinking, neon signs. My check list of items accomplished boomerangs and even though I'm all grown up I feel like a clumsy adolescent who just can't seem to get anybody to understand. In my distress I cry out to my God, like the ancient Psalm writers, "God, what do I do, I don't even know where to begin. The list is so long, and I'm so disappointed and discouraged and somehow every thing's messed up again....What do I do with ALL THIS?"


And in His magnificence, He hears me from His Holy hill and responds in words I can understand, "Dibs!"

All at once, memories flood my mind, remembrances of childhood. Racing my sister to get the front passenger seat of the car, the favorite spot on the couch, the last piece of pie. As a kid, you could call dibs on something from the next county …

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