Last night, I was talking to our 7th and 8th graders (who rock, by the way!). We were in the middle of the lesson, and this example popped in my head. Thought I’d share it with all three of you who read this thing.
We have two cats now that we have moved to the country. Tom, and Chestnut. Both boys, brothers even. About 6 months old. So they play all the time. The other night, I was in the barn working on something, and they were running all over the place, being nuts. We have this little trampoline for the girls to jump on, one of the jogger kinds from Target. Tom was on top of the trampoline, Chestnut was under it. Chestnut knew that Tom was somewhere around, but for the little kitty life of him he couldn’t figure out where exactly his brother was. Which, of course, was two inches directly overhead. So, Chestnut comes sneaking out from under the trampoline slowly, crawling with his tail sticking straight up in attack mode. Tom, patiently, waits and watches. Just a Chestnut clears the edge of the trampoline, Tom attacks. He launches himself into the air with all four paws out like wings on an airplane, using his brother as the landing strip. He lands on Chestnut just like one of the old westerns where the cowboy jumps on his horse, and the two of them are off across the floor. Tom is whooping and yelling things like “Yee Haa!” and “Get up, cowpoke!” Chestnut is just scared silly and running for his life. Finally, Chestnut runs out of steam and they both fall over and wrestle to the death.
Of course, I’m laughing my head off the whole time. It’s literally one of the funniest things I’ve seen in person for a long time. At least since Mike Farnsley ran through the fountains at Kings Island, but that’s a whole other story.
Here’s what I realized. If I can laugh like that at two cats just being themselves; two cats that I had nothing to do with creating or bringing into being; then how much must God laugh with us? I mean, I just feed the little guys, pet them, and make sure they are safe from the big black cat that prowls our fields. God actually creates each of us everyday. He has to laugh and chuckle at us just being who He makes us to be.
That’s comforting. I want my Dad to laugh with me. Actually, laugh at me is more accurate. Not in that second grade mean kind of way. In that “those darn cats” kind of way. He loves me, and actually adores me. It’s really strange to write that out, but it’s true. Not because I’m a pastor, a dad, or anything else. He loves and cherishes me because that’s who He is.
I love that.