As some of you know we lost our kitten Saturday. I have called this little creature Beelzebub for good reason. She greets me many mornings by clawing her way up my leg if I am lucky and across my back if not. One time she lost her balance on my bare back and dug in with all her might. I did not curse...a miracle of no small proportion. Beelzebub slipped out our door Saturday morning and escaped our many attempts to recapture her. I had to take Rachel out of town so we couldn't keep trying to coral her but the rest of the family was home. Unfortunately they couldn't find her and so she was gone.
Several times during our 2 1/2 hours of driving Rachel wanted me to call home and find out if Beelzebub had been found. I couldn't reach anyone and so my little girl's stress levels continued to rise. Meanwhile, both of us prayed fervently for that little troublemaker's return. We finally got back home at 9 that night and the first thing Rachel wanted to know was if anyone had found her cat. No. Off Rachel went with a flashlight trying to find her kitten but despite all of us searching, no sign of her. We left food out on the porch to try to entice Beelzebub back and went to bed.
The next morning was Sunday and without any signs of a kitten, we all went to church. All of us were praying for the return of that little kitten and with high hopes we returned home early in the afternoon to find...no cat. Rachel hunted all around and the rest of us got lunch ready. Because we had a broken pipe and our friend Robert was coming over to work on it, I ordered Noah into the back to pick up his half a billion Megablocks scattered all over the area where Robert would be working. With much grumbling he went back and started the reconstruction of his life. But guess what he heard as he worked. A cat meowing. Searching for the sound, Noah found the kitten under a building at the school behind our house. The space was way too small to crawl through to reach that little kitten child and so Rachel and Noah spent thirty minutes trying to bribe her out with cat food. Finally, out she crept, ravenous after her twenty-four hour adventure into the dark side. With a swift swoop, Rachel grabbed the kitten and wrapped her in her arms.
Snowball had been won back. I do not know who prayed more for that kitten, Mary Jo who tries her best to avoid her, me who has claw marks all over my body to testify to Snowball's affection or Rachel, who went to bed the night before with tears in her eyes afraid she had lost Snowball forever.
I am not sure what to make of all this except I do know that prayer is more than just a religious exercise. It is the lifeblood of our adventures. And our misadventures. How does a Beelzebub become a Snowball? I guess through prayer!
And how bold and free we then become in his presence, freely asking according to his will, sure that he's listening. And if we're confident that he's listening, we know that what we've asked for is as good as ours. 1 John 5: 14-15
