A Fluffy Lesson

It’s almost June. The year is already flying by, yet something still feels molasses slow about it. I think this is because I am in a season of changing. A season of patience accompanied by lots of hard work. A time of opening up and taking inventory of my hurts and bringing them to God.

There is this cat that I love. He is kind of a stray cat. Well. . . I don’t really know what the story is with him. But he is super loving, and we have a special bond.

He has a very loud melodic meow, so I have given him the name Mozart. He is my lover boy and I truly would love to take him home. But he just comes and goes with the wind.

You never know when he is going to show up and grace you with his presence. But every time he does, it sure is a special treat. Mozart is always extremely dirty, to the point that when I pet him, I know I will have to wash my now black hands afterwards, because he is just so covered in filth and who knows what else.

I don’t really know why I am writing about Mozart, maybe because I just heard his loud cry and rushed outside to give my boy some much-needed loving. But also, maybe because I relate to him.

I am like Mozart with God.

It seems that I only come around when I am in need of something and that something is most always love. And I cry very loudly, making a show of my lonely broken self. But God, like myself this morning, has attuned his ears to the sound of my brokenness. He rushes outside, pajamas and all, and goes to comfort me every time. He gives love to my dirty self, no matter how black His hands get from consoling me.

And then, just like today when my precious Mozart was all loved out, and had gotten enough belly scratches to satisfy his desire, he turned on his fluffy heel and headed back off into the trees. To who knows where, and to do who knows what. I was a little saddened and disappointed to see my little fluffy man go. I wanted him to stay with me longer, to revel in the love that I was giving him. I wanted him to not want to leave my side, and then admittedly, I could go about the task of begging Jake to let us keep him.

But no, Mozart had had enough. His love count was up, and I knew as he sauntered into the lush Oregon greenery, that I wouldn’t see him until he desperately needed my love again. Then he would cry for me, loudly like he always does (waking the neighbors) and I would hear him through the walls of our house and rush out to greet him again.

Am I like this with God?

Do I only cry out to him, when I am in the midst of discomfort? Do I only humble myself to my knees when I am in the deepness of a dark pit, howling out for help?

I recognize that Mozart uses me for love. That when he wants some back scratches and belly rubs he knows to cry out near the house on the corner, and the crazy blonde lady always comes rushing out.

But even though I know the name of the game. I still always willingly go outside and greet him open-hearted. Because I want to share my love, time and attention with this little fluffer. I want Mozart to feel cherished and loved, even if it is only for a short while.

The funny thing is, if he would stay, and let me love him, I would never stop. I would provide for him a home full of love, comfort and family. I would give his wild little self a collar, a good brushing and all the catnip his heart could ever desire. But I can guarantee none of those thoughts ever even occurred to his lil’ cat brain. He just thinks all he can get, is what he is getting, and is content with letting the cycle continue until he can’t stand his loneliness any longer and comes back to me.

I fear that Mozart and I have a lot more in common than I would like to admit.

When life is going well, I unknowingly find myself distancing from God. Because life is good, and I fool myself into thinking that I don’t need to wake up every morning with a desperate heart for the Lord.

It’s not like I ever stop loving Jesus, and believing in the miracles that He has rendered in my life. But I almost get too busy for God, allowing life to get in the way. I stop waking up as early for my uninterrupted morning God time and instead find myself prioritizing more sleep before work instead.

I never stop praying, but my prayers become more blanketed and monotone. Almost as if I do them, just to check off the list that they have been done. My heart is no longer pure in my prayer life, as I just find myself getting lazy with it.

But low and behold, when life deals me a blow that is hard to handle. When my depression or anxiety begins to rear its ugly head. When I find myself in the trenches of yet another battle. I quickly put my tail between my legs and run as fast as I can to the Lord, howling the entire way.

God always rushes out to greet me. He gives me the love that I am so desperately crying for. He consoles me, in my time of grief and struggle. And just like I am with that dang cat, He wants me to stay with Him. To continue to be in His presence.

I know that God gets disappointed when I turn my back again towards Him and saunter away. Putting distance between us because I have gotten what I need and no longer feel as desperate and desolate. God is saddened when I do this to Him.

If Mozart would stay with me, he would no longer experience these manic episodes. I can guarantee he wouldn’t howl like he does, crying out for love and attention because his heart would be full and content. He would no longer find himself in such desperate places.

I can learn a lot of lessons from that stubborn little cat.

I need to stop putting distance between myself and the Lord when everything is going well. I need to stay in the constant presence of God, never allowing the enemy to convince me otherwise.

There will never be a moment where I don’t desperately need the love of the Lord. I need God just the same when the sun is shining, as when the rain is pouring down.

And sometimes I forget that.

So I am thankful today, that my little Mozart graced me with his presence again, meowing for affection. We did the same little dance that we always do. And now my little kitter is back in the wilderness, content for now until the loneliness sets in again and he seeks me out.

I want to stop dancing around God. I want to humble myself to stay in His presence always.

Thank you Holy Spirit for revealing this precious lesson to me today.