MIXING WITH THE MEOWS
I should have been telling you our Cat Story all along, as it probably would have made interesting reading (yes, there are a lot of interesting parts to it, believe me), but it has been so close to my heart that I just couldn’t. And then days pass, and...you know.
Last fall a young cat began to beg at our back door. Literally! She gets up on her hind legs and moves her paws as if she is praying for help. She was so thin, and so gentle, and—you probably know the rest of the story!
Here she is AFTER the rest of the story.
We named her Imogene, because the homeschool forensics debate topic of the year was about IMMIGRATION, and at the time, we believed she had immigrated from the neighbors (we now believe her to be a stray or a dump-off).
So this past spring, on a cold rainy night, we were not too surprised to hear a sweet mewling sound at the back door: she had brought her 4-week-old kittens to live at our house.
After two weeks of pure delight and joy, the downside of kittens kicked in, and they all became deathly ill (including Imogene). We couldn’t afford a vet (why DO vets charge so very very much??), but I began to doctor them, and in the end, our favorite one died. Another sweet little guy was going to die (his mother gave up on him and kept dragging him off to the woods), and I couldn’t bear it. I dropped my regular routine to become nursemaid and after much work, saved him.
To shorten the story greatly: we now have a cat living in the house! We love him very much!
I’m telling the story without much emotion, but that’s not the way I’ve been feeling. Probably because of the stage of life I’m living in now, this has been a Large Event for me, and I have been very tearful and loving and worried and upset and joyful indeed.
When we went on vacation for 10 days, the kitten was too young and wasn’t trained to stay in the house by himself, so we left him with his mother outside.
It was a very difficult time for me, trying to enjoy the vacation, but constantly worrying about how he was faring at home—whether or not he would even survive. I couldn’t talk to anyone about it, because it sounded so silly.
This was a period of great revelation and growth for me. Because the bottom line is this: If I cannot even trust a kitten to God, what in the world is my response to Him with my own sons?! All the worrying, all the fear over a smaller thing made me question how much I truly rest in Him with the bigger things. It’s so easy to forget that everything is orchestrated by Him to bring glory to His name. It’s hard to remember that He loves us with a love that can’t be equaled anyway, anyhow.
Take a deep breath of God’s loving hand and settle back into His peacefulness, won’t you?
Our cat’s name is Wheezy.