I absolutely love winter. My heavy black coat thickens into a super-coat, and the panting heat of summer is long gone. Snow is like the frosting on my wintertime cake, and I like to burrow in it, roll in it, and wriggle upsidedown happy-dancing in it. Truth be told, I’d like to live outdoors through the entire winter except for one thing: the people I love are inside.

The newest person inside the house is the baby who arrived last October. I didn’t stress much at the time, figuring her position on center stage would be short-lived. After 3½ months, though, she’s still the main attraction, and I have definitely slipped in the rankings. Most of the sweet-talk is still going her way, and the general public races to greet her first now, instead of me.

But something odd has happened in the last week. Deep inside me I sense the beginning of a strange affection for this mini-human. Unlike me when I was 3 months old, she can’t walk, run, stand, or even sit up. She’s virtually helpless, and my heart goes out to her. She doesn’t even realize she could reach the dog treats if she tried.

So finally I decided to reconcile myself with the fact that she’s here to stay, and along with that, I might as well get in sync with the others in our house. Now when I hear Midge or anyone else cooing or sweet-talking the baby, I no longer push in for my share of the love. Instead I’ve begun a little cooing of my own. Though it sounds more like a squeaky hinge, in my head it’s cooing.

And it’s funny what began happening. Last week when I gently laid down next to the baby on her play mat, both Birgitta and Midge ran for their cameras. “Look how cute he is!” they said, actually referring to me this time. “He wants to be with the baby. What a sweet doggie!” And click-click went the cameras.

Later that day I gave the baby two gentle kisses on her tiny hand, which was a special gift to her, since I give out only about 5 kisses per month. (By the way, she tasted very good.)

You know, sometimes when we want something badly (like I wanted all the attention), it escapes us. No matter how we try, we can’t make it ours. Then when we give up and surrender the thing we wanted most, it somehow comes to us! It doesn’t make sense, but that’s what’s happened to me.

And I’m so thrilled about it, I think I’ll go out in the snow right now and celebrate with a nice long happy dance!

“Give, and you will receive…. The amount you give will determine the amount you get back.” (Luke 6:38)