Lent 2011: The Death of Lily and Adam's Sin

I've always had a lot of empathy for our first father, Adam. I've listened to many foolish brothers run him down for what he did, and for the consequences which his sin brought into the world. My knee-jerk response has always been, "You'd have done it too, probably sooner. Honor thy father."

Whenever I read of the Fall, my thoughts inevitably lead to considering what must have been Adam's profound regret, a sorrow which would last the better part of a millennium. I grieve over what it must have felt like to watch mankind multiply and fill the Earth, only to sicken, fight, and die, knowing that each person is your offspring and every death is your responsibility, even down to the lowliest inhabitant of a creation subjected to futility.

This year, during the "bright sadness" of Lent, just the barest inkling of that experience has intruded into my life, as I watched our dear cat Lily Belle die on the vet's table.

Lily came to us at an Evening Prayer service at our home with some of our Church family. I was playing drums at another Church that evening, and so came home late after everyone had arrived. Immediately, my wife and friends started telling me of a stray "kitten" who had walked out of the bushes and onto our doorstep, trying to come in each time another guest arrived. Later, I met her too: tiny, dirty, flea-ridden, and emaciated, with the saddest little face. My heart melted, and after feeding her we made her a little pallet in the garage.

We explored shelter options, but I soon discovered that she was deaf. That settled it: we would cross the two-cat limit and become "those people." Our vet informed us that our "kitten" was actually a sweet little old lady, somewhere around seventeen years old!

Lily Belle came home and fit right into our life. She was content to eat tons of Fancy Feast and rest in a couple of comfy spots. Occasionally she'd explore but she was happy with the claim she had staked to the living room. She arrived at detente with the two boys with a minimum of complaining from either side.

A sweeter cat you'll never find. Lily maintained a constant, gentle purr whenever her people were present. She was at home and pleased in our presence and loved to have her little head stroked. She wasn't particularly playful (either old age or life on the street had killed those impulses) but sometimes we'd walk into the room to find her sitting in a paper bag or cardboard box reserved for the younger cats' use.

But the way of all flesh crept upon Lily Belle, and her little kidneys began to give out. She stopped eating, became dehydrated, and grew more and more lethargic. After attempts on our part to give her subcutaneous water and syringe feedings, it became apparent that there would be no prolonging the end results of the disease. We would either watch her suffer or euthanize her before her tiny body began to shut down.

Most of us know the pain of that trip--that agonizing last car ride, the tearful goodbye, the lonely drive home and the sting of every reminder around the house. It's heartbreaking.

But what lies behind that heartbreak? Is it merely a severed emotional attachment, the loss of a companion, the interruption of a comfortable home life? Is there more, something that gives the deaths of our beloved pets meaning?

I believe so. I believe so because I believe that my father Adam sinned, and in him I sinned.

Before the transgression our father was given charge of the entire creation, and interestingly that mandate has never been repealed. Rather, it was restated several times to his descendants, and recorded for the rest of us. We have inherited a position of kingly stewardship over all the other creatures but now the glory of our authority is tainted by the curse, and our relationship to them is strained and marred by death.

We haven't lost it all. I also believe our delight in our animals derives from our exercising loving dominion over them. Taking responsibility for their lives, for their care and well being, brings deep satisfaction to our souls, because in that we imitate the God Who cares for all. A wise man regardeth the life of his beast, and acting in wisdom always brings blessing.

The tragedy of the Fall is that the blessing of owning responsibility for our pets' lives involves owning responsibility for their deaths as well. We brought Lily Belle into our lives knowing she'd be leaving us. We took on that grief the day we opened our door to her.

But we did open our door. We knew what it would cost, yet we esteemed loving her, nurturing her, doing what we could to restore her as a thing worth the pain of having to watch her die. As two among the many commissioned to restore the world, we did what we could.

I think in the end that's my Lenten lesson. As I live through another cycle of the Church year — at this time owning my own sin even while I'm forgiven — I live through the pain of the curse while working my small part in its undoing. I grieve the pain in the world with my eyes set firmly upon the wiping away of every tear. I know my Redeemer is making all things new, and I thank Him for our Lily Belle and for giving us an achingly brief charge over her life. I take comfort and joy in that the creation's groaning is ever so slowly giving way to singing.

I heard a bit of both this year, and was greatly blessed in it.

One Year Old

We adopted little Milo at somewhere around two weeks of age. This was him on September 25, '06:


He turns one next week. Here's our little grown-up:

Grillin' Like a Villain

I purchased this over the weekend. Let the tasty animals beware.

Discipling Kids

I looooove Rev. Dr. Voddie Baucham. I've been fortunate to lead worship under his preaching, and I consider his friendship a blessing.

Today I was listening to the podcast of a wonderful sermon he gave to a group of Southern Baptists in Texas. It was, shall we say, a little edgy. In it, Rev. Baucham challenged the prevailing paradigm of youth ministry as unbiblical, actually antithetical to the Biblical model, and ineffective, citing the woeful rates of success in youth evangelism and the growth of the Church in our society. He rightfully emphasized again and again that discipling children is the God-given task of the parents, solely, and that ministries exist only to equip and assist them in that calling. He called for a return to that paradigm beginning with the Pastors of the Churches leading by example.

In all of this, I'm pumpin' my fist in the air going "Heck, yeah!" Voddie always fires me up and I love to hear a Pastor with his prominence saying the things that need saying to a large audience.

But there's a problem with the audience, one upon which the audience itself probably hasn't picked up: they're Baptists. They don't believe their kids are Christians. Why would you try to disciple a miniature pagan living in your home? You don't do it for the Hindu down the street. Unless and until those kids are evangelized, "walk the aisle" and get dunked, all of Voddie's good preaching is merely hypothetical. Only upon a Covenantal basis can that solemn responsibility of bringing a child up in the paideia of God be taken seriously and implemented from day one. And I more than half-believe that my friend might follow that where it leads...

Heh.

Well, that cinches it.

Scientists believe they have observed evidences of water on a planet outside of our solar system. The planet is some trillions of light-years away. The readings which may indicate the water vapor are said to be signs that water, and therefore possibly life, might be pretty common in the Universe.

There's all kinds of evolutionary assumptions being made there. They're obvious enough to not need pointing out. What always gets me in the reporting of these things is that the media never points out that, for all we know, that planet no longer exists. Many, or even most, of what astronomers observe could simply be gone given the fact that the distances are so huge and light travels the speed that it does. And given their materialist assumptions, they can never know. But they'll geek out over a discovery like this and it almost always "proves" that what Scripture teaches is not explicitly true.

My opinion concerning the Universe is that there is not and will never be life on other worlds (until we go there). The lights were put into the firmament for light, to mark time, and for signs.

Not-So-Baby Milo

Milo has sure grown since we rescued him. He's more than doubled in size. He's now eating on his own and, more importantly, using the litterbox by himself. Quite tidily, might I add. He's also moved into a larger house:


Of course, he also spends a lot of time climbing the walls of his cage. But he seems pretty content.


We let him out often for kooky time and for getting to know his big brother (who has his attention in this pic).


Toys, box, food, heating pad to sleep on...what more does a little guy need?

Baby Milo

So, a little abandoned kitten was heard crying from underneath our friends' shed...

Long story short: I'm the proud owner of another cat.

Milo is all of two weeks old. He can almost stand up by himself. He just started purring and when he cries, he sounds like a bird.

He's still a bottle baby, which means we get to get up a couple of times a night to feed him...

...and to, shall we say, assist him with his excremental needs. Kittens this young are stimulated by their mama.

At least we don't have to do it with our tongues.



It's going to be quite an adjustment, not only for Jenni and me, but also for Harley, our little maniac. He knows something is going on, but he seems pretty okay so far. We're keeping them segregated for a few weeks. As you can see, Milo's crate is about all the space he can handle.

Until you've seen a kitten this small sleeping, you have no idea what "heartbreaking" means.