Three weeks after he sneaked out the door, an injury "cone" on his head, Augie the cat is back. He showed up at the back door yesterday, leaving us wondering how he survived three weeks in freezing weather, barely able to eat or drink with his "cone." I'd already gone to the Humane Society with his license renewal and said to take his name off the list as he was probably dead.
Instead, we brought out the fatted calf (aka fresh can of Friskies), which he inhaled. He turned up the volume of his purr to fortissimo to let us know he was glad to be home. The feeding dishes, litter box, and cat bed were "re-installed" in familiar places.
Amazing.
Yes, I immediately thought of the Prodigal Son. More specifically, the painting of that Biblical story by Rembrandt (c 1662), which hangs in The Hermitage at St. Petersburg, Russia. The famed artist chose his lighting to focus on the father's hands, not the shamed face of the Prodigal nor the exasperated expression of the "good" (but proud) other son.
My prayer notebook includes names of several "prodigals." In small measure, as I bring their names to God every week, I share the sorrow of their families and the hope that someday they too will come "home" to the Savior. Two verses that hold me steady in persistent prayer are these:
Surely the arm of the Lord is not too short to save, nor his ear too dull to hear. --Isaiah 59:1
How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! --1 John 3:1
That was the plan from the very beginning, that prodigal people would be reconciled to the God who continues to love them. Perhaps that's why I'm so drawn to the hands in Rembrandt's painting. They remind me of hands stretched far apart and nailed on a cross, as eternity-shaking symbols of God's infinite love.
So, welcome home, Augie. And thanks for reminding us that God saw you all along those three lonely weeks, just as He continues to watch over people He loves and who've chosen, for now, to go their own miserable way.
I actually ran across your name more than once and I thought that sure sounds like our Jeanne. You sure haven't aged much, at least compared to me. I turned 65 last summer and survived a nasty bout of prostate cancer. But I'm riding my bike again and feeling great. I'll know in February if it is in remission.
ReplyDeleteJulie Franz originally called me about the 40th anniversary of the J-school. I told her that I wasn't much of an editor but I directed her to you, if she could find you. She's pretty sharp. Have you seen the stories? They're pretty good.
I lived in California for 20 years and wrote for wine magazines. I came back to my home town of Sedro-Woolley in '92 to take care of my mother when she was fatally ill and stayed here. Took some getting used to but I'm pretty well set her now.
I was sorry to read about your losing your parents. I remember you were close. And we sure hated to lose Gerson Miller, the backbone of the department. I loved the story of the cat. I just got one again, Rosemary Clooney, black all over, with a white moustache and chest and four white socks.
I edit history books and websites now out of my home. We have an extensive history website with nearly 4 million page views, which takes a lot of administrative time for the 700 stories, including lots about Fairhaven history:
www.skagitriverjournal.com
Email skagitriverjournal(at)gmail(dot)com
Take care, Jeanne
Noel V. Bourasaw