Just in Time for Sunday's Lesson

Just in time for tomorrow's sermon on the last chapter of Luke, my friend's cat was resurrected this week. 

Well, not exactly.  But very close.  It all started when I arrived my friend Gay's house house mid-morning on Wednesday to find her distraught over the morning's events.

It turns out that her husband David had gone out for his morning walk earlier and found their cat Ginger lying lifeless alongside the curb a few houses down.  Gay and David have three cats, whom they love and adore.  This particular cat had been with them for two years, after Gay brought her home as a kitten one weekend as a surprise for David, who was out of town.  (While this would be unthinkable in my house, his immediate love for the kitty overcame his shock of finding it in his house unannounced.  Which in my mind clearly shows how much he truly likes cats.)

Out of all their cats, this one did make them worry the most about its safety.  From its early months Ginger had always been a wanderer, and loved to meander across the street slowly and lazily.  Sometimes she would even stop and do a little sunning in the middle of the road on the way across.  This and her general attraction to cars (and resulting habit of trying to get into any open car door)  had led them to fear that she would get hit by a car one day.

And alas, that day had come.  Fortunately she showed no signs of external injury, so David brought her home and woke Gay up to give her that bad news.  They took her to the back yard and just held her for awhile, mourning her passing.  They held her and petted her and cried over her.  Then they picked a special spot in the in the flower bed and buried her.

Then they went on about their morning very sadly, crying over Ginger here and there as they went on their way.

When I arrived, Gay told me the whole story, which of course as a pet lover I could commiserate with.  We talked about it here and there as we ran errands, solemnly remembering Ginger's short life.

Finally, we arrived back home, hands full of packages we had bought to use on the project we were working on that day.  She got out on her side of the car and I got out on my side, and as I got out, I was greeted by small gray cat coming out from the backyard.  

"Oh, here's one of your other cats now," I said to her, feeling glad that at least she still had other cats around.

"Which one is that?" Gay asked, coming around the car to check.  And then there was a huge gasp, and "That's GINGER!" 

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes!  That's GINGER!  There she is!  She's ALIVE!"

Short pause from me. Then, "Um, then...whose cat did you bury in the backyard?"

It turns out that Ginger had not been truly resurrected, as she had no dirt on her at all, and was now wearing her collar.  Perhaps she dug herself out, brushed herself off, and put her own collar back on, but I doubt it.  At the very least, I don't think she would have been nearly as friendly to Gay if that had happened.  I would imagine being buried alive would make a cat pretty mad.

So the real story seems to be that  they discovered someone else's deceased kitty in the gutter.  A kitty that looked just like theirs. They didn't think twice about it missing a collar, because it had lost its collar before.  Instead, they loved, mourned, and cried over it for a good 45 minutes.  Then they buried it in the back yard. 

While not a true resurrection story, it definitely has some similarities.  For example, even though they had warnings,  the death was still unthinkable.  And just when they were facing the fact that they would never, ever see Ginger again - there she was.  Walking out of the backyard.  

I would imagine that tomorrow as they listen to the sermon, they will see the story of the resurrection in a whole new way.

Bob  – (26 June 2011 at 16:17)  

Okay, I have to say that I did indeed see the story of the resurrection in a different way.

This morning, as we sang the part in the song "In Christ Alone" where the verse goes "Then bursting forth in glorious Day, Up from the grave he rose again!" I had a fleeting visual image that Stuart Townend did not intend when he wrote the song. Let's just say it involved brushing oneself off and putting the collar back on.


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