It was a milestone day for little Micah Nathan, two and a half weeks old. His belly button cord fell off. This is good news, since diapering will be simplified, and he can now be submerged at bath time.

I remember clearly when our first baby’s cord fell off. Thirty seven years ago, hospitals tied them with white string. Each time I changed Nelson’s diaper, that cord stub was a wonder to me. He and I had been linked together in God’s detailed design, sharing food and oxygen. But the birthing process had separated us, also God’s plan.

In the blush of new motherhood, I remember the day I unsnapped newborn Nelson’s sleeper and found his cord stub, dried and useless, separated form his tummy. To medical personnel it would have been trash, but to me it was precious. I knew I needed to do something special with it, but what?

I set this bit of dried skin on the bathroom window sill to think about later. It was protected from view by a curtain, so I knew no one would throw it away. Working with the needs of our colicky new baby, I promptly forgot about it until two years later.

We were moving, and when I took the curtains down, there it was, along with a quick Bible lesson. Just as God says in Scripture, we truly are made of dust. There on the window sill was a tiny pile of what looked like dust encircled by a bit of once-white string.

Had Nelson’s cord actually morphed into real dust? I cupped my hands around it and blew. Sure enough, it flew away. I thought about Adam and Eve being molded from the ground. God actually says, “Out of the ground you were taken, for dust you are, and to dust you shall return.” (Genesis 3:19) Coming upon our baby’s cord-dust was a glimpse into our human past, but also a power-packed statement about the reliability of the Bible.

There’s another scriptural reference to dust, this one with a positive spin on it. God lets us know he thoroughly understands our weaknesses, so gives us extra grace based on our “dusty-ness” rather than extra punishment based on our inability to measure up. I guess God knew not to expect too much from a pile of dust.

I’m thankful for my biblical lesson from Nelson’s cord and the reminder of it when Micah’s cord came off today. God’s teachings are all around us, particularly in nature, and I can’t think of anything more natural than our origin being from dust. But there’s an epilogue to the lesson of the cord. God is planning to override the natural finality of our dusty-ness by providing brand new bodies not made from dust.

He labels them “glorified”, and we’ll be housed in these new versions of our old selves throughout eternity. We can be sure they won’t decompose into dust at the other end of life in heaven, because there will be no other end!

Just one question remains. Will our new bodies have belly buttons?

“As a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him, for he knows how we are formed. He remembers that we are dust.” (Psalm 103:13-14)

My faithful dog Jack has stuck close to me since Nate died. Because Linnea and Adam invited him, and because he’s a champion traveler, we brought him with us on our road trip to Florida. We’ve always labeled him “the perfect dog,” and he’s lived up to that on this trip, fitting easily into our new routine in a strange place. Although there are three dogs fenced in a yard just a stone’s throw away, Jack hasn’t left our property even once to investigate. I’ve been very proud of him, rewarding him with twice the amount of Milk Bones as usual.

Jack and one year old Skylar make a perfect pair. She walks around eating, and he follows behind, nibbling on what she drops. I showed her how to put a dog bone in her pocket, and Jack, who’s as tall as she is, trots around next to her with hope in his heart. When Jack rolls upside-down on the grass, waving all four legs in the air, Skylar points and says, “Happy dance.” She’s right. Jack is glad to be here.

Today I rounded the counter in the kitchen and found Skylar standing inside the refrigerator’s open door, eating shredded cheese from a plate at her eye level. Jack was next to her, awaiting the inevitable fall-out. His point of view is that even if nothing visible comes his way, she’ll still smell like food, which constitutes a treat, too.

Jack understands that Skylar isn’t as physically capable as adults and has learned to dodge around her when chasing his squeaky toy in the yard. When she walks past him during his nap, he cracks one eye and braces himself, just in case. If she steps on his paw or tail, he doesn’t move. This is what good pals do. They make allowances for mistakes and don’t hold them against each other.

When Jack comes out of my bedroom in the morning, Skylar greets him with a tender, “Oh, Jackie…” and he receives it with a wag. He runs off with Skylar’s special lambie once in a while, but she doesn’t mind. Instead she shares what Jack has, using his water bowl to wash her hands. Jack eats his “cereal” while she eats hers, and they take naps at the same time.

Kids and dogs. They go together. Both give love with abandon and expect the other to be there for them, regardless of performance. Skylar doesn’t mind when Jack smells like a dog, and Jack doesn’t mind when Skylar fills her diaper. As a matter of fact, he loves her more for it and relishes being on hand at changing time.

There are no politics behind this friendship, never a thought of tit-for-tat. Skylar pauses while Jack sniffs her from head to toe every so often, and Jack waits patiently while Skylar picks the grass off his back after the happy dance. It’s all about enjoying each other with an emphasis on giving rather than taking.

We could take a lesson. In human-to-human relationships, we insist things be reciprocal. You do for me, and I’ll do for you. If things get lopsided, it falls apart. This seems to be true in marriages, business partnerships, acquaintances and everyday friendships. Loyalty is conditional, devotion non-existent.

Jesus was the perfect model of loyalty and devotion in the most lopsided relationship on earth: him with us. He did all the giving, and we did all the receiving. Interestingly, when we realize this and want to give back to him, his “how-to” instruction is to remain loyal and devoted in our human-to-human relationships, even when they get lopsided to our disadvantage.

Skylar and Jack have it made. They’ve already figured this out. Just be sure to check her pockets for dog biscuits before doing the wash.

”Never let loyalty and kindness leave you! Tie them around your neck as a reminder. Write them deep within your heart.” (Proverbs 3:3)

Proverbial wisdom says we use only 10% of our brain power. Spending two weeks living with a precocious toddler leads me to believe we’re born with 100% capacity but then dwindle to 10% by adulthood. When we reach 64 (my age), we’re clinging to percentages in the single digits.

Skylar Grace, my little 19 month old granddaughter, astounds me with her thinking skills. She memorizes words with one repetition, has learned the nuances of our slang, mimics voice inflection and puts grammatical sentences together with ease. And that’s just her language aptitude.

This little person has the gumption to try anything and takes logical risks: “Skylar do it. Skylar taste it. Skylar touch it.”

She summons up stamina adults wish they had as she tries repeatedly to conquer new skills, practicing each one a hundred times over. She never gives up and doesn’t give in. Winston Churchill said, “Courage is going from failure to failure without losing enthusiasm.” That’s a one year old.

Our little girl never runs out of fresh ideas. Her think tank seems always full. For example, this morning when she was helping me put rollers in my hair, I helped her put a few in hers. But she had a better idea. “Purple bracelets,” she said, holding up both arms with rollers she’d slipped over them. She’s the kind of employee Steve Jobs would want in his corner office.

What happens to those seemingly unlimited resources as we age? Will Skylar have been whittled down to 10% brain power by the time she’s a grown up? And the more important question, what was God’s original intention?

My guess is that Adam and Eve were at 100% thinking capacity when they were newly created in God’s perfect world. What a massive descent they made in one day, from 100% to 10%, as Satan had his way with them. After he cleverly convinced them to compete with God and thus commit the first sin, the horror of what they’d just done dawned immediately, probably as they were still chewing the forbidden fruit.

As they scurried about trying to think how to cover themselves, it was evident their brain power had already undergone a serious shrinking. Sewing leaves together? Not such a brainy idea. Too bad they didn’t have a one year old to help them think outside the box.

When God finally connected with them, he had a much better idea: animal hides. Adam and Eve probably watched him kill the animals to get the skins with which he covered them. Crouching in the bushes witnessing all that violence and feeling nothing but loss, what were they thinking? A lot less than 100%.

Ever since then, our brain percentages have not been good. Skylar and every other one year old are reminders of how mentally sharp we used to be. James Dobson said something like this: “Give me one hundred two year olds, and I’ll take over the world.” If I was him, I’d go for one year olds instead, before they lost even one percentage point.

”The mind of sinful man is death, but the mind controlled by the Spirit is life and peace.” (Romans 8:6)