Some lessons come easy

My children are small, but the questions they have about life and how the world works are big. Sometimes their queries are filled with so much depth and complexity that I feel wholly unequipped to answer them.

I sometimes am stymied by how to be honest with them, when the information they require is just too much for them to assimilate at their tender ages. Take today, for example, when L asked me what she was doing when Tiny Baby was conceived, and did Papa and I have to be naked when it happened. There are certain details about human reproduction that are just too much for her to sort out right now.

Then there are the really big life questions, such as: "Where do we go when we die?" or "How come we can't see God." As N and I try to teach our children about the wonder of the living god we believe in, we often have to come to terms with with our own doubts, questions and limited understanding of eternal matters.

This world is a mysterious place. But no matter how difficult the questions can be, they're still worth grappling with and at least trying to answer for our children.

Occasionally, though, things just fall into place, and the work we've been doing to help L and C understand spiritual teachings all comes together nicely. Today that happened in our house with the story of our own "Prodigal Cat."



Terry, our 8-year-old calico, went missing Sunday night, after I inadvertently locked her outside before heading off to bed. At about 2 a.m. I heard the vicious hissing and throaty growls that can only be produced by a feline fight, and flew down the stairs to rescue her from certain peril (she's a pampered wimp when it comes to being able to defend herself) only to discover she had fled.

I was annoyed with her for waking me up and for not showing me some appreciation for the comfortable existence we provide for her by simply coming when I called her. Let her fend for herself then, I thought as I pulled the doors closed and stumbled back to bed.

That was two nights days ago, and by this afternoon she hadn't returned and I was starting to feel a little guilty for my insensitivity. The children and I put out some food in hopes of luring her home and we searched the perimeter of our condo complex--C rattling a bag of her favorite treats and L shaking her favorite toy.

Still, no sign of Terry. I had begun to worry.

This is the same cat, who three years ago, left our house in Maine during the middle of a Nor'easter and stayed away for six weeks. We had given her up for dead, when she finally returned to us, battered, emaciated, but still expecting a good meal and some pats on the head like nothing had ever happened. Even in our current balmier climate, I wasn't prepared to send out the search party and wait it out a few weeks yet another time.

Meanwhile, we've been trying to teach L and C about the power of prayer. In fact, L's memory verse this week at Bible study was Luke 1:13: "Do not be afraid. Your prayers have been heard."

I was feeling the nagging need to pray with her about Terry, but I had little faith, given the cat's track record, that she'd come waltzing through the door today just because we asked God to bring her back. But I knew I needed to give God a chance to show his providence to L, even if I was a bit skeptical about the worthiness of this request.

So I took a deep breath when L and I sat down to read together this afternoon and told her I was worried about Terry. She said she was, too. I asked if she wanted to pray for her. She did. We said our prayer, felt better and went about our day.

A few hours later, while I was tending to stir fry at the stove near the open patio door, where the children were playing out back, I saw a white streak pass through the kitchen, followed by L shrieking: "Ter-Ter! Ter-Ter!" at the tops of her lungs.

What do you know? Indeed our prodigal cat had returned. I felt relief and utter amazement at the prompt answer to that afternoon's prayer. L and I embraced cheek-to-cheek and I reminded her of our prayer and how God really did hear us calling Him and He saw fit to answer us right away, in just the way we were hoping he would. I think L thought this had been a real miracle. I was happy for L and felt utterly jubilant myself, despite the fact that I still harbored a little resentment toward our cat who had put us through yet another emotional roller coaster with her vanishing act.



God is listening. He does understand us. It was plain to see that today. There are times when we plead with Him for intervention, and it just doesn't come, at least in the way that we want it to. That's hard to take no matter how old you are.

But today, the Almighty delivered a little glimpse of Himself to my little girl in a package that was easily digestible for a 4-year-old. I have no doubt that will remain in her mind for a long time--maybe forever.

I sometimes become so jaded with life's unfairness that I start to doubt the worth of prayer. Today I was reminded of why I should never, ever try to live without it.