I’m sewing a stocking when Lazarus leaps into my lap and pushes his sweet orange face into my hands. He is already purring and if cats could smile, he’d be beaming when I scratch behind his ears. He is all love and joy and gratitude. I set my work aside.
On November 18, Nora’s birthday, Lazarus just showed up. We’d gone out for dinner to celebrate Nora’s first year and when we came home, John heard a scuffle in the garage. He beckoned me quietly and said, “I think there’s an animal in the garage.” Upon further investigation, we found a scrawny, half shaved shadow of a cat who meowed and cried.
We fed him some of Milla’s cat food and he was immediately grateful.
He’d shown up on our miracle day and so we knew that if he didn’t have a home waiting for him, a home that was looking for him, that we would keep him.
And ever since then, he has gained weight, begged for food, swirled around ankles, snuggled in laps and has basically just been loving life.
Lazarus is a grateful, grateful cat.
He knows what he’s been given and he knows that he has been rescued.
And this morning when he climbed into my lap…it just got me thinking. It got me thinking of she who had been forgiven much and how she loves much. How gratitude is at the heart of that love.
I’m grateful for this refugee cat. I’m grateful for the reminders.
I know what I’ve been given. I know that I’ve been rescued.
It’s all part of it…learning to be loved by God. Learning to drink in that love, to climb into His lap, unable to contain my thanks and my affection, to have it pour out.
To hear Him say…and say…and say….
Beloved, be loved.