A short story by me about God
I kind of always knew ever since I was little, that I could very likely one day be the “crazy cat lady.” I don’t know how to explain it, not like I thought it was something I wanted to be someday, it was just a feeling I had, when, at about ten years old my friend said, “That’s where the crazy cat lady lives.” Having a couple of cats ourselves, I did not see anything really wrong with it, being a crazy cat lady. And I can tell you, it beats the heck out of being a crazy can lady! (That would be Budweiser cans by the way.)
Yes, I love my cats, even when they kill birds, which I also love. And when they bring a piece of one to me, drop it at my feet and then proceed to lick my leg, yes it grosses me out and I run for the gloves and soap, but I still love them. And when they puke-up the rest of it on my kitchen floor I still love them then, even as I hold back my own gag cleaning up after them.
When they get in a fight and scream, I come running, hoping to rescue them from danger (and save on vet bills). Living on nearly ten acres with wildlife all around is not the same as living near a city. I have done my share of saving. One cat though, he wants nothing to do with me but he stays around like he owns the place. I let him but have learned that if it is him I hear in a scuffle, running to him won’t matter, in fact a few times it has made matters worse. So he’s out there on his own but knows right where I am if and when he wants my protection.
It likely did not help his opinion of me to be trapped, caged, and taken to the vet, where he was poked and prodded while getting vaccinated and sterilized. Although I tried explaining to him that it was for his own good, his focus remained set on clawing at the cage. He refused to calm down and accept the comfort that all my other cats find sitting in my lap.
My cats all have free-will. They can do what they want – they don’t have to come inside at night if they choose not to. Some listen to me better than others. Sometimes I wonder why this particular one won’t give the indoors, or me, a try. I pondered on the possibility that he’s just scared, and that if I force him in somehow, he’ll see how nice it is. Then I realized how this would only add to his fear, which I believe is the whole problem in the first place.
If this animal could talk, I bet it would say the same thing that some humans do who are in this position with God. In my neck of the woods this sounds something like, “Ain’t skeered,” and is wrapped in at least one rationalization of why he/she/it does not need God. I have been there. Maybe you have too. Maybe you want nothing to do with God, and for good reason. And maybe this reason is really Satan’s doing to keep you from God. I get it; I have been there. And after a while, it started to really suck. The loneliness and sorrow I felt for myself were taking over. I had a hard time getting myself out of bed, much less doing anything about it. One thing I did do, however, is ask people to pray for me.
While at first glance I would be the first one to disagree with this request of prayer for self, I believe it also depends on the motive behind this plea for prayer. Not asking for a prayer of prosperity, but for the ability to get out of bed and be useful, and not be such a burden on others. My husband, my parents, and a few friends received this request while all the while, I, myself, was not on talking terms with God.
However carefully I crafted my thoughts to justify my standing with The Almighty, my soul knew the truth and would not give me peace until my mind took heed. For years I thought, I just must not get it, and then I became frustrated. Then I started to think, God must not want me to get it, and I became angry. Angrier, I should say. I had heard of this “peace” that God granted to some, and I wanted in on it. I believed in it, I had seen it, yet it eluded me. So I made my rounds ’round my churchy friends and showed them how God must not like me. Then I went to bed and pulled the covers over my head.
Somehow, however, I knew deep down that it was not God, that it was me. I struggled to understand and tried to make myself believe something that did not make sense. So I searched for something that did. I was shocked to discover that the original manuscripts of the bible make perfect sense and that through the translations, the meaning of many things has been misconstrued. For instance, the earth became void and without form [by God’s own doing], not that it was void and without form [when God created it]. And the whole scene in the Garden of Eden – it took place alright, but it wasn’t about an apple, it was where Satan totally seduced Eve and then she showed Adam what they had done.
Some fascinating stuff, I tell ya, although at first you may be a little like I was upon first hearing this, which was, Huh-uh, can’t be. And that’s fine, I get that too. For me though, this thinking was merely a case of closed-mindedness. For what else could it be when it makes more sense than what I had been taught, yet I was unwilling to think it could be true. And the only reason I had to think this was because it went against what I had thought my whole life. Which, by the way, resulted in a roadblock where my faith was concerned.
This new understanding of what the bible really says has removed all roadblocks for me, and where fear was ruling on a one-way street, love now abides also. This simple thing has been huge for me in many ways. Some of you know I have been writing about this on another blog. Well Dave and I have decided that it won’t hurt to also share this here. And if we are wrong, if it does hurt, we shall still be okay since we know that all things work for the good of those who truly love God, even if we can’t see it in the moment. So stay tuned, I shall be back with more cool stuff (as I see it) about God.