This is my little cat
Choochie. Perhaps you remember reading about her in previous posts. To treat
her hyperthyroidism (which has gotten much better), I've been feeding her a
special diet. To keep this special diet away from my other cat, I've had to separate
my two cats during feeding time and feed Choochie in the bathroom. This new
routine took some getting used to, but I think both my cats have adapted well.
Most of the time, I keep my bathroom door closed, so Choochie knows that in
order to eat, she must wait for me to open the door. She isn't one of those
crazy viral-video cats who know how to open doors. So, she is completely at my
mercy to open the closed door for her. I'm sure you probably know where I'm
going with this metaphorical scenario. If not, no worries. I think you will
soon.
"I have been young,
and now am old; yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his descendants
begging bread." (Psalm 37:25)
Lately, I've been stuck
in Psalm 37, in a good way. I haven't done an extreme amount of research on
Psalm 37 yet, so I can't say for sure, but I'm thinking verse 25 is saying that
King David wrote this psalm when he was an elderly guy. The overall message of
the entire psalm seems to be something along the lines of "Meh, chill out. Every person is eventually
going to get what's coming to him or her. If you're wicked, you'll get burned
to a crisp. If you're meek, you'll inherit the earth and have more peace than
you'll know what to do with. So, don't get your panties in a wad. Just
chill."
Wow. This psalm was
written by King David? King
I'm-extremely-emotional-and-don't-know-how-to-express-myself-without-crying-or-killing-somebody-whichever-comes-first
David? No disrespect intended. Just trying to understand this psalm. I'm guessing
that Psalm 37:25 really was written by an older, wiser, more laidback King
David, or King Solomon's dad. Perhaps by this time, King David (whom I really
do respect and truly look forward to meeting someday) had seen so much of life
that he was like, "Meh, chill out, man. Don't even waste your time
freaking out. It ain't worth it, 'cause God has a plan and knows exactly what
He's doing. See that pasture, sheep? Just keep eating it and enjoying it.
That's how you stay alive during a famine. Baa."
I've heard people in
their 20s or early 30s talk about how hard it is to watch all their friends get
married while they remain single. And I've heard young-married people talk
about how hard it is to watch all their friends have children why they remain
childless. To a degree, I understand how difficult this is. In my experience,
it hasn't remained that difficult for long. I hope this doesn't sound
insensitive, but as you get older and see half your married friends getting
divorced, the ache gradually begins to go away, and your singlehood gets
easier.
But some of my aches
haven't gone away. Some things haven't gotten easier. Some things are still
difficult.
What's been hard for me
to watch is all my friends getting promoted, while I remain in the wilderness.
Or maybe many of my friends get to pursue their dreams, and I get to listen to
God tell me to let my dreams die. Or maybe other people get chosen when I
don't. That's hard to live through, too. And speaking of hard...
"Rejoice with those
who rejoice, and weep with those who weep." (Romans 12:15)
A few years ago when I
walked through an excruciatingly hard journey with grief, I learned firsthand
how terrible the body of Christ can be with weeping with those who weep. I
don't mean to hurt anyone's feelings, but I just mean to say that, no offense,
we Christians can sometimes royally suck at empathizing with other human
beings. Many of us are excellent at dishing out platitudes, but many of us are
also terrible at offering a comforting shoulder when somebody is in pain. And I
include myself in this, because I'm definitely not the best weeper/comforter in
the world, either.
I also want to learn how
to rejoice the right way, too. When somebody is genuinely excited about
accomplishing something, I want to offer genuine congratulations.
I'm still unemployed. But
when I finally get a job -- even if it's a dinky little part-time, minimum-wage
gig that won't put me back into therapy -- I'm going to rejoice my head off. I
hope my friends will be able to rejoice with me, too.
Unemployment is a big
deal, of course. There are about a dozen factors that scream for you to deal
with. There's the financial aspect, of course, which you can gradually learn to
master. There's the problem of having 8 hours per day to fill, which you can do
with a variety of activities after you've fulfilled your weekly obligation to
the state. (I personally have relearned the art of listening to 70s music while
playing Spider Solitaire on my computer.) But I think what has bothered me the
most is the temptation to think that I'm either doing this whole thing called
life wrong, or that I myself AM wrong.
One recent morning, I
was lying in bed talking to God. I don't remember the exact words of our
conversation, but I was basically like, "Did I do something wrong? Have I
not found a job yet because I screwed up really bad somewhere?" And God
was basically like, "You're asking the wrong question. What you should be
asking is, 'Is there anything wrong with waiting?' "
Aha, of course. God has been
wanting me to wait. So, I went on an exciting rabbit trail in my brain about
how waiting really isn't a bad thing at all. Perhaps this whole time, God has
been like, "Meh, chill out. If it had been time for you to get a new job
yet, you would have gotten it already. Just chill, sheep. Baa."
And I think about my
little cat Choochie, who is completely at my mercy. She can't proceed with her
next scheduled meal until I open the door for her. It will stay closed until I
decide to open it. Yes, of course she has every right to ask me to open the door
for her. She's my baby, and I want to bless her with the best food she can eat.
I want her to be alive and healthy. I want her to keep prospering.
But her demands aren't
always reasonable. Seriously, 2 p.m. is WAY too early to eat dinner. Unless
there are extenuating circumstances, I refuse to feed either of my cats dinner
before 4 p.m. When I was commuting, they didn't eat dinner until around 6:30 or
7 like normal creatures. I repeat -- 2 p.m. is WAY too early. Come on, little
kitten, just chill for a little while longer.
I wonder if perhaps God
thinks thoughts like this about me that are very similar. "Um, little
girl, I know you're ready to start working again, but it isn't time yet. Just
chill a little bit longer. I'm preparing a new gig for you that's going to blow
your mind with awesomeness. But it isn't time yet. It's WAY too early to walk
through this new door. So, I'm going to keep it closed. You can protest if you
want, but is it really going to do you any good? You said you trusted Me. So,
just chill, sheep. See that pasture right in front of you? Chow down and enjoy.
It's not time to walk through any new doors yet. Don't freak out if you see
other people living out their dreams while you sit on your couch and blog yet
again about your cats. I've got My eye on you, I'm taking care of you, and I
know exactly what I'm doing. Now go satisfy that adorable little rumbling in
your adorable little sheep-tummy. Baa."
I think I have an idea
of what's behind the closed door. It's another pasture. But maybe it doesn't
have any tall grass growing in it yet. Maybe God planted all the seeds and
has been waiting for them to grow. Maybe He doesn't want me to roam around in a
pasture full of dirt and mud and seedlings. Maybe He knows that if I do, I might
starve to death.
I think it's safe to say
that Meh, I should just chill out. The Shepherd knows what He's doing.
(Baa.)
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