Last Monday, we brought our cats to Indy to live with
us. I hadn’t seen them in over a month,
and I felt such joy to be around them again.
For Jeff, it had only been a couple of weeks, but he had expressed his
longing to see them more than once in that time. It took them a little bit of time to realize
we were back in Minnesota, but soon, they were staying near us.
On our drive down last Monday, we stopped at a wayside rest
and let them out of the carrier, harnessed and leashed, to get some fresh air,
some food, water and a bit of a walk. In
turn, each of them escaped their harness, sending us into a frantic dance
trying to capture them before they disappeared into the woods or were hit by a
car.
Each was found and handled in their own way. Joey, the older and slower, got his harness
back on and behaved a bit more skittishly.
Lili was put back in the carrier because she is just a little bit more
curious and it really wasn’t an incident we wanted to repeat.
They stayed in the carrier the rest of the trip, and when
we got to the house here, we put them into the master bathroom while we emptied
the U-Haul trailer and the Durango. That
night we let them sleep with us…a rare treat, but necessary, we felt, to give
them peace of mind and comfort that this is now “home.”
It’s hard for humans to move any distance, but I wonder how
hard it is for animals? Our cats have
been indoor/outdoor cats for as long as we’ve owned them, so we worried about
how they would react to an unfamiliar neighborhood, the many cats and dogs and
kids. They’ve done pretty well! Most of the time, they just want to be near
us, so they aren’t venturing too far away, and we’re keeping them inside
overnight because a coyote has been sighted in the cul-de-sac.
I wasn’t sure how mad the cats would be at us for leaving
them back in Minnesota with our son. I
didn’t know if they would remember me, after a month apart. I didn’t know how angry they would be at a
very long car ride, the longest of their lives.
I didn’t know if I could trust them to stay and not run away or try to
run back to Minnesota.
But you know what?
They remember us. They love
us. They need us and they let us know
that we are their people, the ones who will always love them, because they love
us.
I have a piece of Winnie the Pooh art with Pooh and Piglet
walking into the sunset, hand in hand.
Piglet says, “Pooh?” “Yes,
Piglet?” “I wanted to be sure of
you.” I think that’s what Joey and Lili
let us know every time they come looking for us, rub up against us, jump into
our laps and lean in for a real hug.
They want to be sure of us. They
want to be sure that we are always there for them, because they are always
there for us.
Owning animals with that kind of devotion, that kind of
love, is such a blessing. I can be at my
worst, feel emotionally ugly or scarred or hurt, I can be angry or sad, but
they don’t care. They are there to let
me know I am loved and wanted and needed.
Even if I accidentally step on one of their paws or their tails, they
will always come back, forgiving me.
They bring me joy and comfort and satisfaction in their
simple actions, in their need to be touched or their need to touch, to be near,
to be known.
They are keepers of secrets, holders of fears, they are
listeners without judgement. They
forgive, in their own way, and help me forgive myself, too. I could call them messengers from God,
reminders that God, too is present and willing to be all that and more.
There is such comfort in that image. And joy in being God’s child, forgiven,
redeemed, reconciled.
A woman, an uninvited woman, a woman with a reputation for
being a sinner, though we will never truly know her sins, slips silently into a
private dinner party to snuggle up to Jesus.
She brings expensive ointment, massages his feet with it, and weeps tears—tears
of what? Grief? Fear?
Confession? Embarrassment? I don’t think any of these. She was, in my mind, weeping tears of joy,
thankfulness, clarity, strength. She
takes her hair out of its covering and uses it to wipe her tears off of Jesus
feet. She had been forgiven for living a
sinner’s life, one that separated her from a relationship with God … and she found
God. … She found hope. … She found what others did not believe she
deserved: forgiveness, love, peace.
She came to Jesus with a thankful heart and offered her
thanks in a very intimate, personal way.
A way that made the host of the dinner party, Simon, very uncomfortable
because he had judged her to be unworthy, a sinner, an outcast.
Jesus had helped this unnamed woman be reconciled to God,
to be in relationship, to be changed, but Simon could not see this. He could not believe a sinner deserved be
turned around, changed, or given another chance.
It can be easy to see the world like Simon did in this
story. It can be hard to know how such
transformation can begin in another. Is
it through hospitality, a meal, a few dollars to meet a need? Or is it through listening to the story and
getting to know the circumstances? Could
it be through impacting a system, becoming active in a cause or marching in a parade?
And who is it that most needs to change in this
circumstance? It’s easy to rail at a system,
to complain about something or even blame the victim and not see that it’s the
person in the mirror who needs forgiveness, who needs to turn around, who needs
to see through a different set of eyes.
This is what Jesus wants Simon to know. He wants Simon to know that Simon’s judgement
of the woman made him incapable of looking in the mirror and seeing his own
sin, his own frailties, his own pride.
I need to confess. Sometimes,
I am Simon. It is that reality that
sends me on a journey of introspection, of paying attention to why I am acting
the way I am acting. It is during these
journeys that I deeply evaluate past experiences, those moments where I judged
or feared or did not want to understand and I hurt someone through
unsympathetic or judgmental words.
It is through these moments of self-judgement when I find
the need to ask forgiveness from God, and sometimes, from others. It is at these times when I learn more about my
shortcomings and those areas within me that need to grow. It is also a time when I am in deep
relationship with God, trusting God to be with me, to teach me, to help me, to
change me in ways that bring me closer to God, which, in turn, helps me to be
closer to others.
It is pretty cool when I recognize the transformation, the growth,
the changes in me that help me to be better the next time around. Sometimes it takes time for me to
change. That’s just a part of being
reconciled to God. It happens in God’s
time, not mine. But when I need it most,
I will recognize the transformation, the reconciliation, and I will find joy.
I think that joy may be what the woman felt when she
brought that alabaster jar of ointment to Jesus. She was able to give back to Him a tangible
gift, as well as an emotional expression of her joy. She now knew that it didn’t matter what had
happened in her past, she was a child of God.
Forgiven. Redeemed. Loved.
Unconditionally, loved.
This I know. Because
we have cats. Lili will meow, looking
for me, longing for me, calling to me, asking me to stop, rest and pay
attention to her. She will jump on my
lap, between my laptop and my heart and she will lean into me, purring with
satisfaction, wanting me to hold her tight, to embrace her. And I will stop and wrap my arms around her,
rubbing her, talking to her, feeling her warmth and her heartbeat, listening to
her purr, seeing her look into my eyes with unconditional love.
No judgement. No
hate. No anger. Simply unconditional, abiding love.
Let
us pray.
Holy,
forgiving, abiding God, thank you for growth opportunities, for the ability to
recognize the need for forgiveness, for reconciling your people to you. Give us mirrors to see more transparently who
we are and who you desire us to be. Give
us opportunities to experience your unconditional love and forgiveness and
presence each day. In your name we pray,
Amen.