When my son was in the 5th grade, he took a route job for our local newspaper. As he made his daily rounds, Monday through Sunday, 7 days a week, he got to know most of his customers. He'd come home each afternoon and tell a story or two about what was going on with people in our neighborhood. One particular evening he came home all excited with the news that Mrs. Brown's cat was going to have babies and she said that he could have his pick of the litter! I'll never forget how excited he was. The only downside to his excitement was that I, his father and man of the house, was not a cat lover. I never liked cats, my mother and father never liked cats, so I soundly and firmly stated that no smelly, shedding cat was ever coming into our house and that was that.
Seven weeks later, a little grey-striped kitten invaded the sanctity of our household. I may not have liked cats, but I loved my son.
Everyone took a shine to this little purring puff ball that quickly became known as Snickers. Everyone that is except me. I refused to have anything to do with her. Actually, I never referred to her as "her" nor by her name. She was always an "it" to me, at best. A bundle of adjectives and insult laden nicknames were in there also.
I've often heard that animals can tell when someone doesn't care for them. Some kind of innate sense that they have and this must be true because I am almost positive that Snickers knew my feelings for her were feelings of disgust and mistrust. Cats are sneaky and conniving, you know. Anyway, no matter where I was in the house, Snickers would find me. It's as if she was looking for me on purpose just to antagonize me. When found, she'd begin her soft little purring and start nuzzl'in up against my feet. If I was standing, she'd do this little "figure eight" routine between my legs, weaving in and out and purring all the while. Man, I hated that cat.
Once, as I rested in my recliner with my arm dangling over the side, I felt her cool little nose press against my palm and she quickly buried her face into it, rubbing against me and yes, purring right along. That stupid cat sure was persistent. I scratched between her ears a bit then muttered something about a dumb cat, got up and walked down the hall, Snickers bounding right along after me. Another time while stretched out in my recliner, my favorite place if you haven't figured that out yet, I was suddenly jolted awake by a little "thud" on my lap. I opened my eyes and looked down at Snickers as she slowly and methodically made her way up my chest, buried her little face into my beard and then, just to ice the cake, wrapped her little front leg around my neck, her paw giving me a gentle hug as she purred herself to sleep. Family members took photos of that event, so no matter what I'd say otherwise, there was proof that could be shown.
Persistent love. Undeserved love. Why I'll never know. But that's how God is with each and every one of us. He has said that his love for us is unending and never changing, and that he would never leave us nor forsake us. In fact, the Bible teaches us in John, chapter 3 verse 16 that "God so LOVED the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish, but have eternal life." Now that's persistent and undeserved Love, that while we were yet sinners God still loved us enough to sacrifice his only Son for the remission of our own sins. Love conquers all things, even death.
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