Much to my chagrin, I made an ironic observation this past week. We have a cat. Her name is Jetta and she is very much her own animal. She is not like our Jack cat who would allow us to scoop him up and nuzzle him. She pretty much does her own thing and believes she is blessing us with her presence if she simply passes through the room we're located in. And while Jetta has a list of things she does not appreciate (like nuzzling), there is one thing that truly freaks of her out: the car. We've been back and forth between Mississippi and Florida several times in the last eleven months. Each time, Jetta is packed away in the pet carrier and secured in the rear of the vehicle. Nevertheless, she proceeds to meow her protests. For hours. Like for eight of the eleven hour drive. When Robert was driving to Florida by himself back in March, I called every few hours to check on him and in the background I could hear Jetta fussing with a monotonous stream of "meow, meow, meow, meow".
The funny thing is, Jetta hated Mississippi. She loves our house in Florida and the familiar territory. When Robert arrived at the house and let her out of the carrier she was happy as could be. She recognized home and rolled around on the sidewalk to show her appreciation for being there.
Listening to Jetta's protests on the drive back to Florida earlier this week, I thought to myself, "If you would just shut up already, I'm taking you to a place you'll like better. You'll be happy when you get there. Trust me!" I was suddenly struck with the realization that I'm a lot like that stubborn cat.
Although my last post promised that I would find joy in whatever direction God sent us, the realization that we would have to leave Mississippi hit me hard. I wept, grieved, and questioned God. I have never prayed more or sought God more than I have in the last few weeks. But when God's will was revealed, I failed to embrace it gracefully. We sat in our home church this morning and I just cried. This was the same place I cried over leaving eleven months ago. Now I was crying because God had sent me back? I think my grief has more to do with not understanding why. A large part of my rebellious nature wants to demand an explanation from God. And I grieve over the fact that my heart is like that. I want to understand things, not necessarily trust God. Could He have something better planned here for us? I fail to see that even when I know how good and gracious He is by nature. I tend to just sit there and meow my protests from the backseat. Pray for me.
and do not lean on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make straight your paths.