A Call for Spiritual Maturity: Diocesan Convention 2005
ACC rep and Executive Council member from Lexingotn face decisions.
Living Together for Mission: The Bishop's Address to the 109th Diocesan Convention
Resolutions Passed at Convention
X-ercixing: The Kitty Blockade
X-ercizing: The Kitty Blockade
By Steve Walton
Jessica wants a kitty. Several months back I bought a Siamese fighting
fish, and named him Patrick “Sushi” McGillicutty. I thought
Sushi would be enough to quell the “let’s get a kitty”
campaign. Well, the best laid plans of fish and men… I have proved
myself such a good caretaker of “our little man” that instead
of suppressing the “kitty idea” I’ve helped it rally
and gain strength. My original reason for not having a kitty was that
I was simply too busy (and neglectful) to have a pet. I cited several
houseplants, lost shoes, and a missing coat as proof that I was not suitable
for having a pet. Now that “Mr. Fishy Pants” is living so
contentedly with me (after the first couple of stress-filled weeks) and
I proved to be such a good “father,” Jessica is back on the
kitty bandwagon. I have been able to buy some time my saying we can’t
have a kitty until we are married. Kitties are lots of work and need reliable
care. I again cite the houseplants, lost shoes, the still missing coat,
and the fact that I can’t work the DVD player. Jessica agreed, we
must wait. It is hard to argue with the relentless. Questions to ask if
we are to have a kitty:
Can we take care of it?
Can we be good stewards of another of God’s creatures?
Can we give it the time and the attention it deserves?
Can we afford it?
Would a kitty want to have us?
“A kitty will scratch the furniture up,” I point out.
“We will have her front claws removed,” She retorts.
“What about the back ones?”
“Well, if she runs away she might need them to climb a tree or defend
herself.”
“Why,” I ask in all honesty, “would she want to run
away?”
Running away is not an option. I don’t want a pet. Pets are hostages
(don’t write any angry letters, please). Pets are tools. We use
them for our own comfort and enjoyment, our own personal needs; not necessarily
theirs. I would only want an animal (besides Sushi) if it intentionally
came to the house, declared its requirements and expectations, and asked
if we could agree to live together. I want a relationship — not
a captive. The conversation has been tabled until after the wedding. My
resistance to owning a pet may be silly and unfounded, yet it is real
to me. It may not even be kitties I am defending, or defending against.
Maybe it is a feeling, emotion, or vulnerability that makes me take a
no-pet stance. Maybe it has nothing to do with pets. Maybe I am afraid
that I am not a good provider. Or that I don’t have the capacity
to care about a pet (or anything) enough to give it what it needs. Maybe
I am afraid I’ll fail at pet-ownership, or maybe I’m afraid
kitty will run away. Maybe I’m just scared in general, and the “kitty
idea” is what I’ve chosen to project that fear on. Maybe I’m
afraid to make my heart accessible. What is real to me may not be real
to others, and in fact, may no be real. But I don’t think I am alone
in this. Aren’t we all sometimes afraid? Don’t we all wonder,
from time to time, if we are in over our heads? Don’t we all ask,
at least occasionally, what is the purpose of our life? Don’t we
all grapple with issues, beliefs, and faith? Am I capable? Worthy? Maybe
love panics me. I don’t just mean romantic love (though it certainly
is scary, yet at the same time so safe); I mean love in general. Loving
anyone or anything is about making myself vulnerable (and who really likes
to be vulnerable). Love is about trusting and faith. Trust and faith are
about love. I have experienced love a thousand ways and in a thousand
forms. I think the kitty scares me so much, because there is little control
of the situation. No rationalizing, no discussion, no debate. Kitties
lack conversational skills, and it is communication that holds relationships
together. In the end, the kitty could reject me and run away. The kitty
may not have faith or trust in me. And as I sit in bed — with my
pen, paper, and mug of orange juice — writing this column, I wonder
if this equates in any way with the way God feels. God trusts us to do
the things which we cannot do alone. And God must wait for us to trust
in Him to help us. But the difference is that God never gives up hope,
faith and trust in us. God always remains open to us.
Steve can be reached at xersizing@yahoo.com
© 2005 The Episcopal Diocese of Lexington