Yoda

 One of my senior citizen cats passed away yesterday. He was a pretty cat, did not act his age, really. In two days, he would have been sixteen. I have no idea what that is in cat years, but I know it is old.

Yoda was, how do I put this? A brat. He always got on counters and refused to get off the table when Andrea told him to. He ate like he had been starved all week and stole the other cat’s treats, and you’d better watch your popcorn because he would use one nail to grab a piece and run. He would give judgmental stares, he frowned really well, and yes, he pouted well, too. His life was a series of “get down, Yoda!” “Leave it alone, Yoda.” “Get out of there, Yoda.” “For crying out loud, you dumb cat! What part of no don’t you understand?” That was Yoda. But he was a lovebug. He liked daddy cuddles, hovered under my desk to clean up lost fragments of yummies, hated having his nails clipped, and he was Andrea’s Foofie.

All that to say, as I stood ugly crying in the shower today, I asked Jesus to help me out. Yoda was not my favorite, but I did love the goofball.

Then, this came to my mind. “You know, you have problems listening, too. You go or do things you are not supposed to. You ignore directions. You jump without looking. You, my dear, are a brat.”

I can never get things right; always have to push that button or pull that lever to see what it does. I do things my way, much like Yoda did. Throughout his process of leaving us, he was determined to do things his way. I wanted to hold him and make sure he knew that his leaving hurt badly, but he would have none of that. He already knew that because as soon as he was put down on the floor, he went to the place he wanted to go. I’d go over to pet him, and he’d purr his fool face off. I rarely left him this week, unfortunately, I did have to sleep, and I missed his passing by minutes. He went out of this world, to the Rainbow Bridge, on his terms.

You know, God never sleeps. He knows when you do things your way, that sometimes you must learn a lesson or face the consequences of those particular actions. He knows when you ignore the Holy Spirit’s direction. He knows you have knee-jerk reactions, say things you shouldn’t, or think things that would make you lose your testimony if they were said out loud. He knows all that, and yet…

He still loves you, more than I loved that brat-cat I called Yoda. God does not sleep. His Word says that He will never leave you, nor forsake you. And despite all the stupid things you do and say, He loves you unconditionally. Forever.

Today, I learned a lesson about God, Yoda, and myself. I learned that God loves me more than I did Yoda. He loves me more than the birds of the air, or the fish in the sea, or the cute pandas in China, even though I listen like a wall sometimes. He loves me so much that even if I were the last doofus on earth, He still sent His Son to die for me, so I could spend forever with Him. Jesus was His gift to me – no strings attached; all I had to do was to accept that Gift. That’s it.

So, that’s all in a nutshell. Even though Yoda ignored, was naughty sometimes, and did things not according to Hoyle, I still love him. And I miss him. The house is out of whack without him.

I may still insist on doing things my way sometimes or speak out of turn, but I have that reassurance that God still loves me, even when I don’t get things right.

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2Sylvia Klein Greeder and Elizabeth Mcclaren