Kitten Hunters

I think I’m crazy.  Or adoption happy, one of the two.  Last week, we decided that Little Miss should have a kitten of her own.  Violet is 14 years old and has never forgiven me for bringing Little Miss home.  She is quite happy to sleep in a sunbeam and be left alone.

For a seven-year-old girl, this is not fun.  So we are constantly telling her to “Put down the cat!” or “Stop torturing the cat!” or “Please let the cat out of your closet!!” True Story.  So, our solution was to bring in a cat that would be all hers. Brilliant plan, right?

We wanted to adopt a younger cat, hopefully a kitten, from a shelter.  So one Saturday we set off armed with vet records and seventeen forms of ID.  6 hours later, we returned home having seen one kitten and faced with pages of paperwork to fill out. 

Side note: I do believe it is easier to be approved for foster care than it is to adopt a cat. 

Hubby and I spend the next 4 days scouring shelters, Craigslist, and Petfinder online.  We made phone call after phone call to places so far away that we had to look them up on a map.  I applied to two different shelters that said they had cats.  We emailed people who said they had cats.  And we ended up…nowhere.

I should mention that we live near Lancaster County, so there are plenty of farms with plenty of barns that should have plenty of cats to choose from.  Finally, we decided to “just drive” and hope we saw a sign for “Free Kittens.”  I mean, we see them every time we drive around Lancaster, so it won’t be that tough, right? 

Not one sign.

Thank goodness a friend had mentioned that her neighbor had a sign out.  So we headed there first.  We knocked and….no one home. <Sigh.> So I left a business card with my number and crossed my fingers.  Next we drive to another pet store.  The Humane League didn’t show up until 3.  We checked our watches…1:15.  OK, so we decided to drive to the actual Humane League.  Surprise, they didn’t open until 3.  Go Figure.  Just as we were deciding to throw in the towel, my cell phone rang.  The man with the Free Kittens sign was on the other end and was home for lunch.  If we could get there in the next 20 minutes or so, he’d be there.  A quick check of GPS told us we could be there in 25 minutes.  Gulp.

Of course, every slow moving car and farm truck pulled out in front of us as we raced across Lancaster County.  We pulled into the driveway in 27 minutes.  Thank goodness he was still home! 

He had caught 3 of the kittens and had them in a crate.  While he tried to pull 2 out, a little orange kitty peeked out and came out of the crate all by herself.  All three of us said, “We’ll take her!”

So all’s well that ends well.  We have an adorable orange kitty who narrowly escaped being called “Rosie.”  But the lessons learned from our mishap:

1)   Never tell a seven-year-old she’s getting something when you aren’t sure where it’s coming from.

2)   Kittens are everywhere, unless you want one.

Martha

I have been humbled by my seven-year-old.  Yesterday, I was getting my Sunday School lesson together, and she offered to help me cut some things out.  OK, I begged and pleaded and finally ordered her to help, but…  She was cutting out pictures of Lazarus’ sisters, Mary and Martha.  (Remember Lazarus?  He died.  But Jesus raised him. )

So, she asked me who they were and what my lesson was about.  I told her the story from Luke 10, where Jesus came to visit Lazarus, Mary, and Martha.  Martha rushed around, cleaning and cooking, and making everything just perfect for her visitor, but Mary just sat at Jesus’ feet, listening to him and talking to him.  Well, Martha was having none of this, and charged into the room and told Jesus, the Son of God, that he needed to make Mary help clean and cook and make things perfect!

Here comes the part of the story I always have trouble with.  Jesus told Martha that SHE had it wrong, and Mary was doing just what she needed to do!

The reason this story is so difficult, is that I am a Martha.  I see myself as a servant.  I really struggle with the need to make sure that things are perfect all of the time, and the house is sparkling clean, and the food is cooked perfectly, and that everyone in my presence is having a good time.  And I never understood how Martha wanting to make sure everything was just right for Jesus was wrong! 

At this point, Little Miss pipes up, “Mommy, you need to do that.”  “Do what honey?” I ask, already focused on the next task rather than our conversation. “You need to stop working all of the time and start enjoying what is going on!  Jesus won’t care if the house isn’t clean.” 

Holy carp. 

She’s totally right. 

Here my seven-year-old gets this story that I have been struggling with for years.  Jesus doesn’t care if my house is clean.  Jesus doesn’t care if the food tastes good.  Jesus just wants me to sit by him and listen to him and be his friend.

Easter--It's NOT about the Bunny

  I heard the best statement today from a middle school boy.  We were filling balloons to give out to children at our church’s Helicopter Egg Drop*.  And he said, “I think we should get more gifts at Easter, not Christmas.  I mean, it’s the day he rose from the dead!  Anyone can be born; it takes work to resurrect yourself.”  Now, the present part of the statement is a little skewed, but the rest of it is pretty awesome.  I’m amazed how people, even Christians, look more at the bunny and the ham than at the real meaning of Easter.  You see so many people in December with “Keep Christ in Christmas” stickers, but who reminds people that “It’s Not About The Bunny”?

Remember, Easter was a game changer.   Easter was when God raised Jesus from the dead, indicating that He has defeated sin and death once and for all (Acts 2:24; 1 Corinthians 15:12-20). That’s something to get excited about!

So, enjoy your chocolate and your glazed hams, that’s not a problem.  But keep in mind the true meaning of Easter…and it’s NOT about the Bunny.

*If you’ve never seen a helicopter egg drop, take a look at our church’s video:  It’s great!
Gateway Church Egg Drop