Professor Bastian

My teacher sprawled across the back of the couch, just beyond my head. His gray and white coat stuck out in crazy ways like an old furry pillow. His yellow eyes narrowed as I scratched his ears. He relaxed so thoroughly that I marveled at how quickly he went to sleep.

                I was in my favorite chair, the loveseat in front of the east window, reading a book in the rays of the morning sunlight. Bastian had marched up to my couch and sat at my feet, staring at me. “I know what you’re thinking, cat.” I growled. “You can forget it. I’m reading this book and you’re not jumping up in my lap.” I moved my book in front of him, but undaunted, he simply marched to the far end of the couch and climbed up to his perch near my ear. Although he didn’t usually purr, I could feel the vibration of his throat as he lay in perfect contentment. Why couldn’t I learn to be content and savor moments the way that cat could?               

                We used to think we owned this cat. Paid $5 for him as a bribe to get our daughter to move with us to Oklahoma City. Truth was he owned us. We moved at his beck and call. Saphronia taught him to drink from the bathroom faucet and that became the only way he would drink. If you got up to go to the bathroom, he made a mad dash to beat you there so you could crack the faucet at a slight trickle for him. Ignore him and you were punished by incessant meowing outside the door. When hungry, he announced the fact with loud cries and led you to the door in the breezeway where his food was kept.

                At restful moments like this, he knew when he had it good, unlike the humans in the household. TV ads peddle “big box” consumerism. Bills pile up on the table. Wistfully, we pine for a nice vacation somewhere. The Lord knows I need to learn contentment. That’s why he sent this cat to pester me. “Go to the ant, thou sluggard,” instructs Wisdom, Proverbs 6:6. The ant takes pains to secure its food and then rests in contentment during winter. Bastian meowed for food and water and then sprawled on the chair back in contented slumber. Wisdom provides plenty of teachers. Badgers fear nothing; they make their home in the rocks. Locusts don’t stress over unpaid bills, they march out in superior numbers to achieve their objective. Wish you could go places? Lizards find their way into king’s palaces—Proverbs 30:26-28.

                Another lesson the cat taught was to recognize your master. He wasn’t always friendly with strangers.  Therein lies the way to contentment: learn who your Master is and trust Him, Matthew 6:24-34. The Father demonstrates wisdom through creation. Contentment is there if you will only look. Just watch a house cat sometime.