The Parson Ponders: Chooser/Chosen

The following Parson Ponders is a rerun of one I wrote in November 2008. It is shared in thanksgiving for our special kitty-cat named Chooser. We named her Chooser because she chose to spend her very brief 2 year life with us and touched us more than we could have imagined. Today, she was put down because of a mystery illness that was slowly sapping her life.

The Parson Ponders: Chosen!
What happens when a cat -or God - sets his (or her) eyes on you.

We’ve been chosen, Martha and I. Imagine that!

Being chosen is a good feeling.

This “being chosen” wasn’t one of those mass mailings that proclaim “You have been chosen to receive a free weekend at a lake resort!”

No, it is something much more significant than that. We’ve been chosen by a cat, which at this time remains nameless. The little kitty showed up sometime towards the end of the summer, a scrawny black and white kitten. It wasn’t too forward at first, just keeping itself in close but not touchable proximity. But it was always there, it seems. Whenever we went outside, there was the cat. When we went for a walk, there was the cat. When we drove up in the car, it was waiting for us. For whatever reason, the cat decided we were its best bet in life.

I immediately went into my “ignore that it is there mode”. I remember that, when I was a boy, there were a bunch of wild cats that hung out in the barn that was then standing on the property. Some of them came to an unfortunate, poisonous end by visiting the neighboring mink farm.

And of course, there was Fluffy. When I was about ten years old, Fluffy would hop onto my pillow and purr in my ear every morning. With her patches of black and white, she looked like she could have been an ancestor of our current feline visitor. I remember taking quite a hit when Fluffy got run over in the street in front of our house.

So I determined I was not going to hand over my heart to this current tagalong cat. I remain firm in that resolve -- well, pretty firm.

Martha was even more firm about that, despite the flattery and the rush of appreciation that comes from being chosen. With the approaching cold weather, she was talking about taking the cat to the pound.

So, imagine my surprise when, one day, Martha confessed that she had slipped the cat the remains of her hot dog. You could almost hear the groaning and cracking as the wall of her resolve crumpled. The cat chose her, and now she has chosen the cat. (Of course, I was once a pretty cool cat myself who chose a certain lady, and got chosen in return! Or was it the other way around?)

It is a great feeling to be chosen. Someone has noticed you. Someone cares about you. Someone believes in you. Even when it’s a cat doing the choosing, it still makes you feel like somebody.

But think how great it is when God is the one doing the choosing. Jesus made it clear to his disciples: You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name. John 15:16

The second part of that verse, the bearing fruit part, the responsibility part, is
breaking in upon us now. Since the cat has chosen Martha, and she has chosen the cat, it is time for us to start bearing a little fruit. We will at minimum need to provide some food and shelter, even if it remains an outside cat. It took longer for the reality to dawn upon us that, if we let nature take its course, we could soon have lots more little kitties running around unless we invest in some birth control! The plot thickens.

I think that kitty and God have a lot in common. They both are very good at hanging around, walking where we walk, anticipating our moves, believing in us, and above all, declaring themselves for us before we ever even think about responding to them. They’re always with us, no matter what. And somehow that persistence in being with us, that declaration of love for us is very hard to resist. Sooner or later, we come to appreciate being chosen, and we respond in kind.

It seems to me that there is one more thing that is aching to be done for the tag-along cat outside our door. It needs a name. I’m thinking about “Chooser” for that’s exactly what this cat did: it chose us. Or maybe a more distinguished title is on order, like Wormer, as in Wormer von Heart, for that’s what the cat has done: wormed its way into our life and hearts.

And that’s what the big, big Cat, the creator of this world has done as well. We’ve been chosen. Our loving God is at work at this very moment, worming his way into our hearts. It might be hard to resist. And you might end up bearing some fruit. 

Addendum:

I am happy to report that Chooser -yes that’s the name we joyfully gave her- became a full member of our family. She was never far from our thoughts. She liked to go on walks around the lake with me. I built her a thickly insulated outdoor home which she happily accepted on those cold winter nights. If I had an outdoor project, she always found a good vantage spot not far from where I was working. She remained an outdoor cat, much to the dismay of the mouse and chipmunk population of the area. She seemed to prefer the outside, but she became very aware of our movements inside the house and liked to peer in and watch us. We asked the vet about her being an outside cat. He answered, “Well, outside cats don’t often live as long as indoor cats, but they seem to have a whole lot of fun!” Alas, that was true of our Chooser. She had a great time outdoors, but she didn’t live a long life. She was only with us for a couple of years before she became ill and died. We will never forget that she chose us and brought much love and joy to our lives.