By Rhonda Rhea
We recently sort of misplaced our cat. He doesn’t even go outside the house. He does all his catting around from inside. But one day we looked and looked (otherwise known as a cat scan) and couldn’t find him. We finally located him. Guess where? On top of the refrigerator!
I have to confess, I might not have been searching for the cat as diligently as my children were. It’s not that I don’t love good ol’ Sammy. But I can’t deny he makes a lot of work for me. Even if you ignore the box, the vet and the unspeakable hairball events, there’s still the matter of the fur. Every time he hauls his chunky body off the floor (where it’s usually parked for hours at a time), he leaves behind a hair clump the size of a gerbil. The other day, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw an entire gerbil herd grazing on my living room carpet. I prayed they didn’t stampede.
Add kids to the cat picture and you’re talking about even more work. When you have kids and cats in the same house, you have to watch both carefully. Children seem to love to cover cats with shortening, toothpaste and/or vapo-rub (that last one makes my eyes water). Kids also usually feel the need to give the cat a bubble bath and they somehow think every cat would enjoy a ride in the dryer. After you convince the kids that cats really don’t appreciate bubbles or drying (even on the gentle cycle), they often take that to mean they should clean the cat with the Dustbuster. I’m not sure that the cat’s method of cleaning himself wasn’t more of a defense mechanism than an instinct.
It’s not only that Sammy makes extra work for me, either. No, there’s an attitude at work that really gets on my nerves. He seems to relish in giving me “the look.” I’ve seen it on several teenagers (never any of mine, of course). It’s a sort of a condescending look of superiority. Whatever I ask him to do—and what a waste of time that is—he looks at me as if to indicate that whatever I’m asking is entirely beneath him. Someone reminded me that thousands of years ago people worshipped cats. I don’t think Sammy has ever quite gotten past that.
What is it that makes the kids love the cat? Pretty much nothing. They require nothing, yet love Sammy overwhelmingly.
God loves us overwhelmingly and unconditionally, too. All of us have sinned, the Bible says. We’ve, in essence, given God “the look.” But even though we were arrogant and unlovable, Jesus came as part of God’s unconditional love plan. He lived a sinless life and died a sacrificial death on the cross to pay our sin penalty. And when we accept that payment and give Him our lives, He makes us new. Isn’t it wonderful that God loves us without strings (or even yarn balls)? His unconditional, selfless, sacrificing, extravagant love has made new life possible for all who will receive Him—eternal life.
That’s nine lives times forever!
Rhonda Rhea juggles her writing and speaking ministries around chasing
her five children and running to keep up with her husband, Richie, pastor of
First Baptist Church of Troy, Missouri.
She is a conference speaker and writes inspirational humor columns for
many Christian publications in the