Linking up with Kate Motaung over at Five Minute Fridays today!

The theme:

I’m sitting on the floor on my bathroom. I have two boys, and one husband. Therefore, the floor is not the best place to be. The bathroom has a door, however, and for the most part it is shoved shut.

Except my cat, somehow, manages to get in here now. And he is staring at me, as cats do, all up in my face. Like somehow this staring business is going to make me get up and get him a smelly kitty treat.

I am not. I am going to stay right here.

I am crying a little. I am also wondering where my waist went. It got, um, disappeared. I had just returned from a shopping trip where I had bludgeoned myself with changing room! bright lights! mirrors all over! dresses that seemed right and then when I put them on they turned into impossible cloth torture devices! a horrible feeling of “who are you kidding” malaise!

I was tired out by all that. So, the bathroom.

Also this: my children. The sweet little babies were whining so much this afternoon that I thought maybe they were, like, training for some sort of whining tournament later.

This was PULITZER whining. This was whining that could get you into the FRACKITY-FRACK WHINING OLYMPICS.

As I sat on that bathroom floor, with my cat all mouth breathing on me, and the linoleum screamed “Ebola! Plague! Disgusting! Clean me, now!!’ at me, I kinda hated my life.

Remember when you didn’t have children? The children that took your waist? Remember that? You used to read the freaking newspaper, woman. On a Saturday morning. With coffee. In BED.

I realize that I kinda hate everything.

And then, the cat came a little closer. Always one for barging through social boundaries, he leaned on me. And something kinda happened.

I leaned on him.

He purred. And I put my hand on his warm little head and I remembered something:

I am supposed to pray when I get like this.

And then, Jesus, who is always here with me, even in my bathroom of despair, said:

“I really think it’s time we get together. I’ve been trying to call you into a meeting all morning! Will you please reply?”

I sniffled.

“We can’t meet here. It’s like, gross. And I’m a mess.”

Jesus, always one for barging through all social boundaries, sat right down next to me, amidst the fur and germs, and said,

“I can do mess. Let’s meet. Right now. Before you switch over to doom and gloom forever. And then, let’s just keep meeting, like this, all day. Ok?”

He reminds me of this every day. The cat is sometimes His messenger. I know, it’s a cat. But for right now? He’s a Messenger from God. With fur on.

Why yes, I am wearing a tutu. It compliments my eyes. And yes, that is a furball photobomb in the background. She’s such a diva.

Cast all your anxieties on Him, because He cares for you. I Peter 5:7