FAITHFUL LIVING: God longs to be close to us, his family

Bonnie Girl is a tuxedo kitty — mostly black with a white bib and white paws — and I am thankful she is a member of my household. I value her life and enjoy her. I like the way she crooks her tail and races around the bed in circles when I straighten the top sheet, fluff the pillows, and arrange the down comforter. She gets in my way and interrupts my efforts, but she makes me laugh and provides balance to the monotony I experience while performing menial household tasks.

I like to observe the ways she draws me into her world when connecting with me serves her needs. Like the time I watched her repeatedly dip a paw into the top of the fish bowl as if she had decided to involve herself in some private fishing. When I hurried over to shoo her away, I realized she never intended to consume the Beta. The water level was simply too low for easily lapping.

Being a completely obedient owner, I added water and she drank to her heart’s content.

As much as I adore this cat, she is not the princess of the house. She is just a cat. On the other hand, she is much more. We give her free reign of the house and she mingles with family members at will. Some of her personality has developed in response to our familial habits and I believe that some of those distinctively feline behaviors of hers have lessons wound deeply in them if only I will take the time and quiet my spirit long enough to notice.

I came to these conclusions around 2:30 a.m. this week when Bonnie decided that the new flannel bedding my husband and I chose made the best possible spot for her to bed down for the night. Not only did the bedding feel good but evidently my pillow was the one and only place acceptable enough to sleep for the night. Once there, my neck seemed to provide just the amount of warmth she needed to dream her way through the cold nights we have been experiencing.

I did not notice her at first, for she is a smart one. She conducted her first sortie in the dead of night. She hoped I might not notice. But it was the droplets of drool falling onto my neck and the massaging of tiny cat paws — both proof that I had one happy cat — that blasted me away from my own blessed sleep and into the world of life lessons, there in the dark.

I did what any logical cat owner would do: I dropped her gently onto the carpet, pulled the covers over my ears, and closed my eyes. But Bonnie had a plan. She started from the foot of the bed and gingerly she stepped toward my head. If I moved she would stop, hunker down, and give me the impression she accepted her new spot with grace. But the minute I quieted she continued her creeping. No amount of deflecting arms, words or rolling over would deter her. Off the bed she would go, and back on it she would hop. It was my neck and the new flannel pillow case, up close and personal, or bust.

Such amazing determination! I thought, there in the dark.

In fact, her relentless pursuit of my pillow reminded me of what I have come to understand about God: He is our great pursuer. We may push Him away at times. We may not want Him too close. We may long to sleep instead of interacting with Him, but He is undeterred. In His desire to be close to us He promises that we need not be burdened by an expectation of perfection — but we rarely believe Him. We surround ourselves with hurtful attitudes, apathy and laziness in an effort to push Him away. We decide we and God are not compatible.

Still God draws near to us and speaks His message through modern life and people and Bible passages: I made you out of love and long for a daily, close relationship with you!

Bonnie and I figured it out. She found a spot on my pillow and I found the space I needed to sleep. This week it’s a story about relentless pursuit and eventual compatibility. Next week we will move past compatibility and focus on those elements that build deep, eternal relationships.

Freelance writer Joan Bay Klope’s e-mail address is jbklope@hotmail.com

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