I have never been much of an animal person, but as part of
my “re-culture shock” of being in rural USA
again after a few years in great big Tokyo ,
I am much more aware of the natural world of plants and animals surrounding me.
And from the beauty of humming birds, to the horror of a dead mouse, to my
current house-sitting situation with 2 cats and a coop full of chickens, this
city girl is finding “normal” things pretty entertaining.
As soon as I open the back door, I hear the excited
clucking. 16 scrawny legs scuttle awkwardly in a jumbled effort to
be the closest to the hen-house gate. “Some one is coming! Maybe they’ll open
the gate! Maybe we’ll be FREEEE!”( – at least, I’m pretty sure that’s what
these chickens are going on about.) But as 8 heads turn side-ways to get a good
look at who is coming, 8 beady eyes fix on the big, juicy, rotten pear in my
hand. I open the gate just enough to slip my wrist through, tossing the pear to
the far corner of the coop. After a split second ruckus and flurry of feathers
all 8 chickens are happily pecking away for a beak-full of rotten fruit.
Meanwhile I open the gate wide, close it behind me, help myself to all their
eggs, and let myself out again: completely ignored.
Then we have the cats. On one side of the yard we have a
stereotypical anti-social sleeping-all-day ball of fur. On the other hand…we
have an outdoor cat who absolutely adores me. As I come home he runs up to the car, nearly
getting himself squished to driveway-cat-paste in his eagerness to greet me. He rubs himself on my legs and finds the greatest
pleasure in a simple pet on the head. But I am cruel; my ears calloused to the
desperate mews as I stand up and head for the front door. Thus the battle of
wits always begins. Usually I succeed: slipping into my quiet refuge and
locking the door in the face of the mewing cat (usually without squishing his
neck in the door – oops. Sorry), but twice the cat has had the victory: dashing through the open door as I fumble with groceries or a stack of mail. “I
made it! I win! I am inside and I will never-ever-ever leave you! Now that you
have reciprocated my love by allowing me in, PLEEEEEEASE keep petting me” ( -
at least, I’m pretty sure that’s what he’s going on about).
I think of my awkward relationship with these animals, and I know it
is an odd comparison, but I think of my relationship with God. Am I not a bit
like the chickens sometimes? I come to an hour of quiet, a day of rest, and though my Father is right there, the gate open wide, I’m happy to instead fix my eyes on a glowing
screen, scrolling through social media and watching TV shows (which in all
their fun and wonderfulness are pretty much a gooshy rotten pear compared to my
Glorious Abba). And while I know the cat's motives aren't pure either...when was the last time I would have stopped
everything and risked my neck just to be with Him? And how thankful I am that
He never plays a battle of wits with me, nor shuts the door in my face, nor laughs as I delight in rotten fruit. Oh no. Praise the Lord, He is not a city-girl house-sitter or even a business-like farm manager, but our God is our
Shepherd, our Father: patient, overflowing with faithfulness and love. He opens the door
wide every time; welcoming us to be with Him, delighting in us delighting in His glory.
