Talk about discombobulated. I never was renowned for using a bunch of common sense. Leave it to me to make simple things complicated, and to load up my plate – not to mention my heart and hands – with far more than I can handle. I’m the kind of person who just has to bring in every bag of groceries all at the same time, even at the expense of spilling everything. Why? Because. Because I just do stuff like that. So it shouldn’t surprise anyone that today I decided to walk three dogs all at once. Big deal, right? Yeah, actually, big deal. But why?
If you’ve ever taken a dog for a stroll in a wheelchair, particularly a 60-pound hound who can be obstinate when he is determined to go off in whatever direction he pleases, surely you understand that it is wise to keep a hand or two free to get him back on track. Mr. Simeon couldn’t have been more delighted to go on an afternoon sojourn, but then Jake simply did not want to be left behind. A miracle, without a doubt, because I thought Jake was off to heaven several months ago. So how could I possibly refuse his 15-year-old slowly moving self, and why in heaven’s name would I make my life easier by bringing a leash?
Common sense? Oh, but if you don’t know me well, you might not know I tend to get a little overloaded. Come to think of it, and speaking of miracles, I figured why not overload myself even more by bringing along senior disabled dog Miracle. Ride? Yes, Miracle doesn’t have a wheelchair. So I carried her. Can you picture it all? Perhaps not. For if you are now thoroughly convinced that I managed once more to get myself utterly overwhelmed, think again. Surely you will never guess what happened, nor could you possibly imagine how the Lord inspired me once more through one of His delightful surprises.
No sooner had I somehow managed to get my crew of canines out of the privacy fenced area than I looked down and virtually stumbled upon the Lord’s little surprise. Wouldn’t you know, I came face to face (well, not exactly given our enormous difference in height!), with none other than a tiny, crying, somewhat sickly kitten of all things! Of course, it didn’t take me long to figure out that the crying I had heard earlier in the day had not been a dog like I had supposed, nor like a bird like I had guessed when I realized it wasn’t a dog. It had been the cry of a desperate, all by her lonesome, kitten. Surprised? Of course. With 18 mostly special needs and senior rescued dogs in my care, the last thing I almost ever run across on my property is a cat, not to mention a kitten.
So if you’re eagerly waiting to hear how the little kitten fits into the category of inspiration, let me digress for just long enough for you to get a good laugh. Please try to picture how I managed – or didn’t manage – to handle Mr. Simeon in his wheelchair, Jake who was wandering off, little Miracle cuddled in my arms – and now, yes, a kitten! Just imagine my concern in how the three dogs would handle the kitten, how the kitten would handle the dogs, and how I would handle anyone at all! Okay, suffice it to say it seemed everyone, and everything, wanted to run off, or fall, or pose a challenge in every imaginable way. I cannot even begin to describe the next 10 minutes as I tried totally clumsily, and at first thoroughly unsuccessfully, to get everyone in his or her right place. Of course, this happened to fall on a day when I have fallen short in more ways than I would like to admit, and have needed the Lord’s mercy about every five to 10 minutes it seems. Needless to say, I finally was able to get everything in order – including the kitten in my car where I could shuttle her off to a local rescue.
Inspired? Probably not. But perhaps laughing. So ready for some inspiration? Okay, here goes. Of all the homes in the neighborhood where the kitten could have gone, the kitten came to mine. And of all the places on my property the kitten could have come, the kitten came right to the fence door to wait for the one on the other side of the door. The kitten knew what it needed, and the kitten came right to the door. The very door that I would come through. Isn’t that something? How often in our lives do we go everywhere but to the source of what we need? How often in my life, even since I came to know and have walked with the Lord, have I gone to the wrong source? How often have I gone to stuff, to people, to myself, to anything and anyone at all but to the Lord Himself? How often have I forgotten, or simply neglected, or been too obstinate and rebellious, or too foolish, or to anything, to remember the door? The door? Yeah, the door. Not just any old door. But the door that is the Lord Jesus Christ, the door to God in heaven. My Lord. My King. My provider.
Wouldn’t you know, in the midst of my self-created mayhem this afternoon, did I get the most precious, albeit tiny and adorable, reminder that there is one door where I belong? The door of my Lord.
“Then said Jesus unto them again, Verily, verily, I say unto you, I am the door of the sheep. All that ever came before me are thieves and robbers: but the sheep did not hear them. I am the door: by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture.” (John 10:7-9 KJV).
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