What Calypso taught me about trust

Last fall, I adopted a long-haired female kitten from a nearby farmer who knew that this particular stray was different than their other cats. She was so friendly, so cheery, and loved being with humans. She may have been dumped near the farm by someone who just didn’t need another female cat in the barn. She could have been somebody’s pet before she strayed off and found another unsuspecting cat lover, or somewhere along the way, she could have been separated from her mother and her siblings.  Since little Calypso (aka. Queen Bee) isn’t able to tell her story; it’s hard to know for sure from where she had come. The next time the farm family saw me, she pleaded for my help to find this sweet, long-haired female kitten a forever home. Foolishly, I agreed. I did find a home for Miss Calypso, but it wasn’t someone else’s forever home, it was my forever home.

The day I had agreed to adopt the kitten, we were strangers. I picked her up and while I stood talking to the farmer and her family, Miss Calypso was content. She enjoyed my attention. She enjoyed being in my arms and she soaked up all the love she could receive from this human who had a really big place in his heart for cats. This lasted for a while, until I began my walk home. As I was walking toward my house, I noticed that the further I got away from the place that had been Calypso’s home, the more familiar my skin had become with little kitten claws. Miss Calypso sensed that something was changing and all that was once familiar was no longer the same. Her life was about to change. Her body tensed, her claws cut into my skin, and she wiggled constantly in my arms trying to escape and return to that which was familiar to her. The real issue for Miss Calypso was that she didn’t know if she could trust me, and so, she became frightened.

I brought her into my house.  I knew that she was not going to be an outdoor cat, but rather she would live inside my home. As soon as I set her free, she ran to the closest hiding place and remained there for what seemed to be many hours. All the while, she wasn’t sure she could trust me. Likewise, I didn’t trust that she would be a good indoor cat. I didn’t know if she would know how to use a litter box. What kind of food would be most healthy for a growing, indoor kitten? I thought about fleas, bugs, ticks, and other airborne diseases that would afflict outdoor cats. Did she have rabies? What about spaying and de-clawing? All of these were my questions. These seemed to be logical, rational questions for anyone considering the adoption of a once outdoor, farm cat. However, in reality they were questions about trust. Could I trust Calypso or would things not work out and I would be stuck with an unhappy, untrustworthy cat? In her own cat mind, she had the same questions about me. Both of us had to learn to trust one another.

Psalm 23 is among the most requested scriptures I receive for funerals. This beloved Psalm is also a song about trust – trusting in the ‘shepherd’. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…” No, it’s not statement of rejection – it’s a statement that rejoices in abundance. Because the shepherd is near, the sheep will have no wants – the shepherd will provide everything for sheep. This is trust. Learning to trust begins with an unshakable faith in our shepherd and guide, Jesus Christ. If we are to rekindle trust with one another, we need to begin with a faith in the transforming power of the resurrection that gives us a reason to believe that we have a future. Even amid life's complicated questions, our anxieties and our brokenness, the shepherd prepares a meal for us.This is a test of trust. Isn't it amazing what our pets can teach us? Thank you Calypso, you have taught me a great lesson.