How God teaches me about life through our feral cats

When the stress of deadlines, bills, illnesses and life’s drama become too much for my weary soul to bear, I often retreat to our screen porch off the back of our home to soak in God’s beauty.

This afternoon I was again overwhelmed, and found myself retreating to that favorite spot, watching the two feral cats who have adopted us. Instinctively knowing that we have a soft spot for all furry friends, they  made a home under the porch. Storm is Cally’s baby and quickly becoming an expert mouse and chipmunk hunter.

For what seemed like hours, I watched the two scamper around the grass streaked with the sun’s rays, tossing leaves with their paws as if they are tiny toys left expressly for their pleasure.  Mama and baby–playing without a care in the world because they know, without a doubt that God will provide an abundance of food and shelter for them. And just to back up God’s plentiful resources, they know that we provide a nice bowl of kibble and some fresh cream for them each morning.

It soothes my soul to see them play without worry, without concern and gives me a reprieve from the inevitable stresses of the day–helping me to cope with an open, grateful heart. For if God counts the hairs on our head and notices each sparrow that falls to the ground–how much more He cares for us.

Lord I believe, thou help my unbelief.

Now I know why I love St. Francis of Assisi so much–he knew all of this and trusted only in God’s providence.

Mama Cally


This is Storm–about three months old now

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