Kitten love

My oldest son, Nick, has a litter of 4-week-old kittens at his house. The girls saw them for the first time over the weekend. They have never seen kittens or puppies this young. Actually, they haven't ever seen a litter of any kind of baby animals. Liana was absolutely smitten.

I'm not sure how many kittens there were because little fluffy bodies of grays and blacks and whites, striped and solid, were crawling all over the girls. Arielle was a little leery of their sharp, gripping claws but Liana was awe-struck. She picked up one, then another, holding them gently, petting them, looking into their eyes. She was drawn to a multi-colored one, black and white with streaks of gray. It had a little black dot on its nose and cried piteously. She held it against her chest until it fell asleep. She played with the kittens for a long time. I enjoyed seeing her so kind and nurturing. "Mom, I like this one. Isn't he cute?" She showed me her favorite one, as if this small kitten was the greatest treasure on earth. "Mom, I REALLY like this one," she said again.

Nick said the kittens were hungry and needed to go back to their mama. They were carried out two by two to the other room. Liana's worried eyes kept darting to mine. Did she have to give up the kitten? Finally, she let it go.

On the way home I realized there was some kind of big misunderstanding. Liana, for some reason, thought she might keep that kitten. Dad soundly said no. All the drive home Liana gave her reasons why she would be the best mother ever to that kitty, tears rolling down her cheeks. Dad was patient for awhile. But he is adamant about no more cats. Our ancient outdoor cat is on his way out and Fred is looking forward to a pet-less house.

By the time we got home, Liana's silent tears became sobs. Her heart was broken. She realized she would probably never see the kitten again and couldn't bear the thought. Dad telling her she could have all the cats she wanted when she was grown up didn't matter. "But then that kitten will be grown up too!" she protested. Inside the house, the sobs became wails of grief; this was more grief than her little heart has ever known in all her six years. Now Liana can certainly be whiny and manipulative at times to get her own way, but I sensed something more.

First of all, she's never wanted anything so much. She's never before cried for toys or pleaded her case so convincingly for anything else. But she was also heartbroken because she saw a new side of her dad she didn't know existed. Before he was a dad who never denied her anything. She reminded him of that. "You always promised to give me anything I needed!" I know it hurt Fred to tell her no. He would like to be the kind of father to grant anything his beloved daughter might wish. But he knew this was not the right time to do that.

Liana fought hard but did not get her kitten. In the end she trusted her dad and accepted his decision. She didn't understand, but she knows he loves her. Was her bargaining and arguing and persistence wrong?

Coincidentally, the very same night I read an excerpt from Philip Yancey's new book, Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference? Yancey suggests God invites engagement with him in the kind of prayer that struggles and argues. God desires us to appeal to his grace and compassion and promises. Sometimes God comforts and calms us as we pour out our grievances. We see his wisdom and accept his final answer. Other times we wrestle, and like Jacob, we say, "I will not let you go unless you bless me." Genesis 32:26. Sometimes God changes his mind.