Why Not?

“Where’s that Dusty?” I wondered, looking around the room I believed her to be in.  Dusty is my sweet tabby cat, and she usually lounges in bed with me in the mornings.  This morning, though, she was nowhere in sight.

The furnace hummed in my ears.  It was only the second time I’ve had it on since spring.  And then I knew, or thought I did.  I was right.  On a shelf under a desk, only a foot above the floor and situated right over an air vent, is my cat’s favorite fall/winter/early spring sleeping location.  When the heat is on that’s likely where she’ll be.  I leaned over and peeked in and there she was, peering at me through one sleepy, half-open eye.

And just like that, I was in my grandpa and grandma’s house and a child again – age six, seven, eight, nine, ten.  And I was in a small, warm cubby, my absolute favorite place to be.

There was a furnace that blew air out into the house, but there was a vent on the back side of it which also expelled some air, though in far smaller quantity.  It adjoined a wall on one side and blew its lesser air out directly onto another wall straight ahead, about 18 inches away.  The arrangement formed a little alcove and I fit right into it perfectly.  One wall was to my back, another to my right, and the vent directly ahead.  With a stack of books at hand, something tasty to snack on, and my grandmother visible to me in the kitchen to my left, I could sit there for hours at a time, and did.

I read, I ate, I talked to Grandma.  Those days are among the most precious of my memories.  My grandmother – loving, patient, affirming, generous, kind, and always happy to have me – is my earliest recognizable connection with Jesus.  I knew she loved me; there wasn’t the slightest question.  I knew she wanted what was best for me, always.  I knew there was nothing she wouldn’t do for me.  I knew she wouldn’t misdirect me or give me bad information.  I knew I could count on her in every circumstance, and that she was totally worthy of my trust.

So when I learned later that those are many of the same qualities claimed for Jesus, I had no problem understanding those claims or believing them to be available in Someone other than my grandmother.  She possessed them.  So might God.  And He does.

I’m aware that not everyone has had a person who loved or loves them unconditionally in their lives, and I’m so sorry for it.  That I had such an individual, and so early on, is the source of great wonder and amazement to me, as well as gratitude.

Jesus loves me.  He loves you too.  And more – much more – than your grandmother did.  Or your mother.  Or your spouse.  Or your child.  Or your closest friend.  You can count on Him, at all times and in every circumstance.

And.  He’s making ready a special place for us even as you read this.  John 14:2, 3 makes this promise: “I am going to prepare a place for you.  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with Me that you also may be where I am.”

Wow!  I can hardly wait.  I hope my new home has a cozy cubby near a heat source and a very large book availability.  If you want me and can’t find me, that’s where I’d suggest you look.  My grandmother will be nearby.  And possibly dear Dusty as well.  Why not?