Day two of the guest post extravaganza is upon you. Next up is my good friend Kristin. I had the good fortune of stumbling across her site when she made the coveted FIRST POST! on Stuff Christians Like. Of all days, it was a day of shameless blog self-promotion and since she made first post, naturally I clicked on her link. I read that post and instantly I was hooked. She’s smart, funny and hates (hated?) cats. We’re practically twins. I hope you enjoy her story!
Halfway between the front door and the car, drizzling rain working itself down into my hair and clothes, I froze. I heard it and so did the kids, coming from behind the front wheel of my SUV. I knew before that what had happened, when I saw four-year-old Mia’s eyes expand to approximately 15.8 times their normal size, her breath catch; from yards away, I could practically hear her pulse quicken. Aw crap, I thought, God had answered her prayer.
Let me back up. To understand, I have to rewind to that morning, 4 hours before we headed out to the store. I’m busy searching through piles of papers in the study, trying to locate that one form I use to grade all the time, but can never find when I need it. Mia has perched herself at the kids’ table, watching.
“Can I have a cat?”
“But I want a cat.”
“I’m allergic to cats.”
“But I really want a cat.”
“I could die. Plus, we can’t afford it.”
“Mia, I’m really busy right now. Why don’t you just go pray, and ask God for a cat,” I shooed her off so I could keep ransacking the study. She skipped off to her room, I thought, to play. Apparently, she went to pray.
When I heard the cat, I shuddered. Why, of all prayers, did he have to answer this one? Why, of all people to chose upon whom to foist a feline, did he choose me? That’s it. God just didn’t understand. He had crossed the line. I did not want a cat.
I would have to get rid of the cat. I don’t like poop; I’m barely responsible enough to feed my own children, who can ask for food when they’re hungry, and, I can’t stress this enough, I’M DEATHLY ALLERGIC TO CATS. She was a skinny thing; I could probably just let her starve to death. No, then I would have to dispose of the carcass, and as much as I hate poop, I hate dead animals more. Also, if God sent it, maybe it was an immortal angel cat. If it’s a boy, I could call it MacLoud or Gabriel. Wait, no, no cats. Animal Shelter! Yes, I’ll call the animal shelter and have them pick her up.
Turns out, you can’t tell a four-year-old that their miracle has to go to the animal shelter. So, over a year later, the woman who could potentially be killed by kittens via anaphylactic shock, has a long-haired, large-eyed, Maine Coon mix named Scarlet, who sleeps in my bed, keeps me company when I’m alone, makes a great foot warmer and has never caused even a watery eye or ticklish throat.
“And he said, ‘Truly, I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of God.” Matthew 18:3
She taught me some invaluable lessons about prayer:
- Youngsters are specific in their faith – they believe God for something tangible and detailed, and, God often rewards that faith with detailed, specific answers.
- Kidlets expect God to answer – there’s never a question of IF with them, but WHEN. It’s sad that Mia’s faith is more mature than mine, because my faith is mired what I believe is possible, given what has, or has not, happened in the past. It’s bogged down in rationality. Hers is pure anticipation of the promise.
- Little squirts return praise for the answer to their prayers. There is no one involved in Mia’s life that doesn’t know God gave her a cat.
Just the other day Mia asked for a dog. Again. I’m onto her, now, and am actively involved in bit of low-level spiritual warfare with my own child. May God have mercy on me.
Have you ever been surprised by answered prayer?