The above is a picture of one of my most precious possessions in the world….my cookie monster. I can hear your shrieks of horror all the way here. Quite a scary Cookie Monster eh? Your saying “Joy, there’s got to be a story behind that picture?” right? Or maybe your just a creepy stalker that doesn’t care….Well Cookie Monster goes down in history as one of the grossest, and most loved stuffed animals. The story, although tragic at first, ends wonderfully.
“The fall winds whipped across my hair. I climbed out of our Ford F-250 and onto the concrete ground below. My Dad took my hand as we crossed the road and into the grocery store. Little did I know, I had just lost my best friend. I was only around three years old. My best friend was white bear. Small in size, but large in heart, white bear had been there from my very first moment. White bear had fallen out of the truck, to never be seen again. Tragically, I never found him that faithful fall afternoon. He was lost forever, in the land of the lost toys. I was devastated. My older sister (older by four years), trying to comfort me, gave me cookie monster, and thus began the love of cookie monster. We were never far apart. I was commonly seen, thumb in mouth, rubbing his feet between my fingers. One day my older sister and I were playing doctor on cookie, and she placed tape on his eyes. Much to our horror, off came the black paint on his eyeballs. Tragic. Over the years Cookie became rather rag tag. His arms are floppy, his legs only holding by a few threads. He’s dirty enough to make anyone want to throw up….but I LOVE HIM soooo much! I have loved him almost to death. I’ve had other stuffed animals in my life, but none can compare to cookie monster. He’s my favorite.”
As stupid as this idea is going to sound, it got me thinking. How do I love God in comparison to cookie monster? I have spent night, and day, as a child (I admit it, cookie monster still sleeps next to me in my bed 
) next to cookie monster. We went everywhere together. I was never ashamed of him. I am proud of the fact that I love him. I’m proud of the fact that he has no eyes. I’m proud of the fact that he is all torn up. I am proud of the fact that I love him.
Am I proud of God? have I loved God so much that he is getting ragged around the edges from all of my hugs? Does he smell like mildew because he’s been soaked with my tears night after night? Hmm…
