Instead, he goes to the door something-like twenty times a day, begging to be let out so that he can...eat snow. That's his beverage of choice. Fresh snow. White fluffy snow. Anything but tap water in his bowl.
Now I don't know what he is going to do when Spring comes and the snow melts. He may decide to rescind his strange gourmet taste for snow and go back to tap water in the bowl. He will have to. Because I am not importing snow for him just so that he is not thirsty.There's plenty of water right at hand. He drank it before winter came with its fluffy snow to partake of, and he will drink it again when the snow has melted.
I think I am perturbed with Harry because his fussiness reminds me of myself. Every time I start to tell God I am in need, He asks me if I've had a drink of His living water. When I want to recount my problems or my challenges, He just hears me tell Him I'm thirsty for more of Him. He knows when I am thirsty before I even do. And His offer of refreshing water still stands. "...
It's not that His Word and His presence do not satisfy us. They do. It's that I generally, initially, want other things first: I want answers, I want miracles, I want evidence of His working on my behalf. When I'm done telling Him what I want, He then tells me what I need: You're thirsty, Lauren. You want Me. You want a drink of Me.
So I take a drink of His goodness. Sometimes I don't like the initial taste of the living water. I can be fussy, like a colicky baby. But even if water tastes like river rock or tastes like clay, it still quenches my thirst. That's the whole point of sipping it,gulping it down, swirling it around our mouth and swallowing. We need water. We are so thirsty. Continually thirsty. And thank God for that- because then I remember the answer for my continual thirst, I need you, Lord. I need You.