Seriously. My decade daughter kills me. She is hilarious. And always full of so much hope!
She was out exploring the other day. We live in a village and they can still do things like take off into the wilds on their bikes and chase their dreams. Get in a little trouble. And seek out adventures.
So that is exactly what she and her BFF were doing…Out on bikes, exploring farmlands, soaring past forests, playing at the school playground, and then stopping at the local soda shop for a cold drink.
It’s like a storybook.
And she is living it.
As everyone knows—storybooks also have happy endings.
Unless you write Adelyne’s (my decade daughter).
Here’s what happened…
Ring-ring.
My phone rang.
“Hi, Adelyne!” (I obviously know what number she has).
“Hi, Momma!” And then she continues. By the mere tone in her voice, I definitely know Something.Is.Up!
“Momma! We are at the noclegi and this itty bitty cat came up to us. It’s about 5 weeks old, and it’s so skinny and it needs help!”
“Adelyne! Stop touching the cat. Does it have bugs all over it? Fleas?”
Believe me…I have dealt with 3 dogs that had fleas. It was not something I wanted my daughter coming home with.
“No, Momma…It doesn’t have fleas. It’s so sweet and all alone. It needs our help! Please, Momma! Can I bring it home?!”
“Adelyne, we are NOT going to keep a cat…”
“Momma, we don’t have to keep it. I can take care of it while making Lost Kitten posters, hanging them up everywhere…”
I am SUCH a sucker for ALL animals.
“Okay, Adelyne…but we are making posters for it and finding it a home.”
“Okay, Momma.”
Sure enough, before long, the girls show up with a kitten in their arms.
Except it wasn’t a kitten.
It was a full-grown cat.
Beautiful.
Black.
Sleek.
Fat.
And just cuddled up in their arms—completely tame. Not a wild cat.
And purring.
“See, Mom?! See the kitten?!”
I stare.
Blankly.
“Where’s the kitten?”
“This is it!”
“Adelyne—that’s not a kitten! That’s a cat,” I begin stroking its head.
Adelyne and her BFF looking quizzically at the kitten/cat, “But see how skinny it is, Momma?!”
I poke at the belly of the cat and my finger bounces back. Yep. Plenty of fat.
“Adelyne, that cat is not skinny. It’s clean. It’s fat. And it is super friendly. This is probably some poor girl’s cat. She’s probably at home right now wondering where her precious family pet went.”
And to exaggerate my point, I emphasized, “She’s probably CRYING!”
The two “decade” girls look at each other with WIDE eyes—astonished that their rescue is NOT a rescue but a kidnapping, and then they say,
“But we thought this cat was a gift from God!”
I burst out laughing…
A gift from God?
A kidnapped black cat.
Yes. This is my life.
Needless to say, they walked the cat back towards the soda shack (noclegi) when I got another phone call, “Mom! Mom!”
“Yes…” I say wondering, “WHAT IN THE WORLD IS NEXT?!”
“The cat jumped out of our arms and climbed a TREE and now the branch is breaking!”
“Adelyne, YOU ARE NOT TO CLIMB THE TREE TO GET THE CAT!”
“But the branch is BREAKING!”
“ADELYNE MARGUERITE…”
Everyone knows it is NOT a good thing when your momma uses TWO NAMES.
“Um, yes, Momma?”
“A cat that can climb up—can climb down. Get your bike (which they had to stash somewhere so that they could bring the kidnapped cat home) and come home.”
“But the poor cat…”
“Will survive!” I finish.
A gift from God?
A kidnapped black cat.
From a local soda shop.
I am dying, my friends.
But aren’t we ALL like that sometimes—hopeful for something that crosses our paths, sometimes distorting the truth of what we think we see?
I know I am.
Therefore, I will end with this great reminder,
“Keep our eyes on Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of our faith…” Hebrews 12:2
And 2 Makes Crazy 