I was just musing on a story recently from my childhood that made a huge impression on me, and thought that I would share it.
When I was a toddler, our family lived on a mountain in Lewistown, Montana. We had several acres of land where we raised beef, and horses, and we had a few family pets. Mom has always had an allergy to animals, but she allowed us a few pets if they could stay outside, so our dog “Heifer” and our cat “Rosey” were outside animals.
Rosey, our cat, would sit on the front porch every morning and scratch at the door waiting for her breakfast. Each morning my mom would step out onto the porch to find her feeding dish, fill it and return it to the porch where Rosey enjoyed her meals. As time went on, however and winter set in, Rosey’s misfortune of pushing her bowl off of the porch became a frustration. They became harder to find as the snow drifted in, and sometimes would roll farther away than where we looked for them.
This was the case the morning etched in my memory, when my mom stepped out onto the porch to gather her bowl and could not find it. This was maybe her third or fourth bowl that had gone missing in the winter months, and it was nowhere to be found. With a prayer that probably came out more in a sigh than a petition, my mother said, “Lord, would you please help me to find the cat’s dish so I can feed her this morning?”
Rosey was still on the porch waiting, and mom hadn’t really taken notice of her as she was intent on finding the bowl, but for some reason Rosey caught her attention…it was something about the way she was walking that just didn’t look right. She sort of hobbled and something seemed wrong with her back legs. Upon further investigation my mom discovered that frozen to Rosie’s backside was the missing food dish. Somehow Rosey must have sat in her dish long enough for it to freeze to her bottom and then hobbled to the door to be fed and released from her attachment.
I suppose my mom could have retrieved another dish from the kitchen to feed the cat, or poured her food out directly onto the ground. Maybe she could have solved the dilemma on her own, but I think that God used that moment to make a profound impression on a three-year old girl and her family. God showed me then that He hears our prayers, and He answers. He showed me that He cares about the things that concern us. He showed me that He had a sense of humor.
For this reason and many others that I will inevitably write about, I am a believer in the love and intimate care of God. He hears us, He listens, He answers.
New International Version (NIV)