“What do I need to heal?” (She pleads to God, the angels, and anyone who will listen, as she sits, feeling overwhelmed, eyes closed, in morning meditation.)
“And, please bring it to me in a tangible form that I can understand for once!” (She demands in her uppity way.)
In the next second, her thirty-pound fuzzy canine love-bomb abruptly plops himself in her lap, no permission, no delicacy, just cold nose, slobber, and full-on Jasper-love.
How’s that for tangible?
I say we get exactly what we ask for.