Kimmy

This summer, my daughter moved home, bringing all the attendant boxes, bags, and challenges. Among the things she unpacked was her cat, Kimmy. Now, I’m not a “cat” person. I do not have allergies or despise them. I’m just a dog guy. Perhaps it is the sphinxian nature of cats. Dogs wear their hearts on their sleeves. They let you know up front where you stand with them. Easy to read and well-suited to pack life, dogs provide fewer challenges in decoding their mood. Cats, inscrutable and given to aloofness, provide a greater puzzle. Sometimes they want to be petted. Sometimes you reach out a gentle hand and pull back a gnawed nub. Periodically I’ll reach down to pet Kimmy as she strolls past, tail waving, and she stops and enjoys the moment. A few minutes later when I reach down, she’ll squat, just out of reach, virtually crawling past to avoid my hand. Cats are just that way; independent and not given to obvious outward displays of affection. But, Kimmy is low maintenance. She’s pretty quiet. She does not urinate or defecate in the wrong place. She eats the food provided and plays pretty well with Arlo, Christopher and Megan’s adorable Cocker Spaniel. All in all, she does not intrude into my space...too much. She and I enjoy a comfortable detente. So why did she choose my lap?

In the morning, I get up, shuffle into the kitchen, and start the coffee. Then, I go into our living room, plop down in my easy chair, reach for my Bible and prayer list, and spend some time in personal devotion. After I pray, I pour coffee. It is my personal quiet time, me and the Lord. Well, it used to be personal. Now, once Kimmy hears me sit down, she galumphs down the hall, across the living room, and into my lap; where, without so much as an “excuse me” she settles down and commences purring. I put her down to go and get coffee. She usually waits there and hops back up when I start reading. It doesn’t seem to bother her that a cat in my lap gets in the way of my Bible. My contortions to get my Bible into a readable position with her in my lap work well for her; and, the little ribbon place-marker provides her some entertainment on those rare occasions when the rustling of turning pages wakes her up. And I’m the only one she does this with. Everyone else in the house, bonafide cat lovers, read uninterrupted. Me, the one verifiable dog guy, gets to adjust himself to an addition to my lap time. She also does this in the evening during my recreational reading. During that time, I frequently use a Kindle. She’s discovered that if she gets her paw-pad on the page she can either turn it herself when she wants or keep me from turning it by lightly resting her pad on the edge of the screen. So now, I must adjust two of my few alone times to Kimmy. When I sit at my desk writing, she will come and try to sit on the keyboard. Kimmy never asks. She just jumps up. She assumes a warm welcome. She assumes permission. She lives here so she feels she has the right to intrude upon my space and time. She does not do this to either Christy or Candace, just me. And in these quiet moments with an uninvited guest in my lap, God has spoken to me.

When I hear her galop coming down the hall, I know what’s about to happen. She does not wait for approval. This is how God wants us to relate to Him. He desires an open relationship which assumes reception. Romans 8:15 reminds us that God wants us to call Him “Abba, father,” a term of closeness and endearment. He does not want a standoffish formal relationship. He desires informal and loving. I’m not sure if my soul can purr; but, He wants me to stretch out in comfort and security and relax, conforming to His shape, taking pleasure in His presence and warmth. Kimmy did not “warm up” to me. She just made up her mind and concluded my lap was her domain. Now, she climbs aboard at will.

In Matthew 11:28 we read these sweet words of comfort, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” God offers a place of quiet, comfort, and rest. Despite my being a non-cat person, Kimmy knows that I offer refuge and comfort. I do not twist her tail. I do not torment her. Instead, I accept her and adjust myself to her. She’s comfortable with me. God offers a refuge from the chaos of the world. He looks forward to our jumping into His lap so He can scratch us behind the ears...metaphorically speaking of course. But the idea is true, God wants to extend comfort and rest. He wants to treat us tenderly.

In Luke 13:34, Jesus’ great lament over Jerusalem, He compares Himself to a mother hen seeking to protect her young. He drew from the rich metaphor tradition found in the Old Testament, Psalm 91:4 for example. God wants to be our protector. He wants us to know we are safe and secure. Kimmy enjoys knowing that I will not harm her or allow harm to come to her while in my lap. It is a place of security and refuge. And that is what God wants for us. He wants us to impose upon the peace and quiet of His easy chair. And, unlike a certain grumpy guy, He has no favorites. He wants us all. He yearns to hear the familiar sound of our gallop down the hall, across the living room, and into His lap.