Last night my son shared with me some doubt that he has been struggling with. He spoke of the four years that have passed and the things he sees so often that make it seem like his mom is happily stuck in the far country. He wondered why God didn’t give him a sign or some kind of answer. I told him that Jesus is the answer and that the sign is Him on the cross. He wept as he expressed regret that he was somehow not the brave and faithful boy he once was, a boy that I often would tell him stories about at bedtime. I told him that he is that boy still and always will be, but that he is in a place where he is growing in his faith and relationship with God.
So he cheered up and prayed some sincere, sweet and faithful prayers. And then, this morning, our merciful Father gave him the sign he had asked for, because God is good and he hears and answers the prayers of His children who trust in Him and cry out to Him. And He adores the faith of children.
In August we went on a fishing trip for a few days. We were blessed to have a good man run the farm for us in our absence. The well-intentioned fellow took it upon himself to let Chilly, my son’s cat, outside, thinking he was hungry. Chilly had arrived at the farm from the SPCA in March. He had never been out of the house as my son was intent on having an indoor kitty. Often he would sit in the window and gaze wide-eyed at the scenery outside. So, when the backdoor opened, he was easily tempted, and out he went. When the good man realized that Chilly had no intention of coming back inside, he tried to coax Chilly back and tried to catch him. But Chilly would not have that, having just tasted the outdoors, and besides, he did not trust this man who was now chasing him. He ran into a hole that opens up beside the foundation of the new section of the old farmhouse and leads into the crawlspace between both sections.
We returned home to the news of Chilly’s escape. My son was extremely distraught and he called for Chilly for quite some time. He was thoroughly convinced that Chilly had run away and would never return. I assured him that Chilly was most likely very close by, under the house, and afraid and in hiding. Chilly had gotten more than he reckoned by venturing outdoors; that weekend there were people working in the yard and my mom and sister had commandeered the house to do some surprise cleaning and decorating while I was away.
Our four outdoor cats did not appreciate his company and he hid from their snarls and hisses. The guard dog, though behind the fence in the field, saw him as an intruder and sounded the alarm every time Chilly came around to the backdoor. What had seemed like a good idea, to investigate the expanse that he had seen through the window for so long, became a nightmare. Huddled in his refuge under the house, he became convinced that everything and everyone was either out to get him or trying to end his foray into his new-found “freedom”. No matter how much we called and how much he so desperately wanted to get back in the house, Chilly had to show that he had done the right thing, that he was happy outside in his dark hole and that he was not scared and knew exactly what he was doing.
For quite a few weeks we never saw Chilly. My son was convinced that he was gone. But he prayed for Chilly and I encouraged him to believe that God was protecting him and would deliver him back home when the time was right. My son researched and asked many people about what to do about an escaped housecat. He asked me to put out the Havahart trap but all we caught was one of the outdoor cats, a couple possums, and a big, mean feral cat which was most likely terrorizing Chilly and the other cats. Then one day I heard Chilly meowing under the house as I sat quietly in the kitchen. My son was thrilled to know that indeed Chilly had not gone far, as I had told him. But still the cat would not show himself, emerging at night to eat the food I left on the back porch.
Then one day as I rounded the corner, Chilly was sitting by the entrance to his hideout. Discovered, he froze. But I sat down and talked softly to him and waited until he came up to me and allowed me to pet him. Had I been more wise, I would have left it at that. But the urge to end this separation overtook me and I reached out and picked him up and began carrying him to the house. Chilly proceeded to shred my arms and even bit my hand so I dropped him and immediately regretted my impatience. Under the house Chilly went, and he stayed there for a long time, nursing his broken trust.
My son loves cats. After two months of no contact with Chilly, he became lonesome for a housecat so we brought home two kittens from the SPCA. But now, the sightings began. We would see a flash of a black tail going under the house. One day I saw Chilly out in the yard. Each sighting would boost my son’s confidence and he would call his mom and tell her each time, and she would be excited and supportive. The sightings increased and became interactions. I encouraged my son to be patient and to not make the mistake I had made, but to wait and build trust. Chilly was now meowing at my son and began allowing himself to be touched before bounding back into his dark hole.
Two more months passed and winter had set in. The week of Christmas was a cold one and eight inches of snow had fallen the previous week. Chilly was making regular appearances and being more vocal, but whenever he would see me coming he would run away, but this time only a little distance away. I sensed that he was weary of his harsh outdoor existence and that perhaps the cold conditions and hostility from the other cats were humbling him. My son was having regular contact with him now, petting him frequently, building trust. “Maybe Chilly will just be happy as an outdoor cat now”, he had said in a resigned tone. But in my heart I knew, this cat was not cut out for life in a dark hole in the great outdoors where he had to compete with hostile foes for food and miss the wood stove and the belly rubs from his former life as a housecat.
This morning I stepped outside to put cat food in the dish for the whole kitty crew, and Chilly bounded over to the dish, meowing. I reached down and petted him and his back rose to my touch with greeting.
Chilly had finally been broken and had come to his senses.
So when I told my son, he went outside and returned a moment later holding Chilly in his arms and carried him triumphantly through the door. Chilly was home. He raced to hide under the sofa, not recognizing the two new kittens, but emerged after a few minutes. As we sat at the table, he came and asked to be petted, as he had always done. It was so obvious that this cat was happy to be home. Soon he was sitting on the couch by the woodstove, reclining and washing himself. He kept getting up to find us and ask for more affection. And he consented to a belly rub.
My son called everyo