I went home early on Thursday, because Brenda was having a medical test and she wasn’t supposed to drive herself. I got home a few minutes early and sat down in my favorite chair. And Little Tiger jumped up in my lap. This is unusual. Little Tiger is Brenda’s cat. He tolerates me, because he knows we share the same house and I’m coming home every night whether he likes it or not. But he’s not overly affectionate towards me. I am reminded of this every time he hisses me.
But for whatever reason that afternoon, he hopped up on my chair, looked at me, and then proceeded to lie down in my lap. It was a sweet moment, except for how I was dressed.
I had a memorial earlier in the day, and so I was wearing a suit. And as Little Tiger snuggled in my lap, I could already see an additional set of lines forming on my grey pinstripe pants, lines made by an abundance of loose cat hair. It was not the best time for Little Tiger to sit in my lap. But I let him sit there anyway.
Sometimes we think of change as a great corrective, a compelling remedy to be applied to something that is excessively wrong. But sometimes change takes the form of slow progress. We just need a better understanding of slowness.
2 Peter 3:9 says it this way:
“The Lord isn’t slow to keep his promise, as some think of slowness, but he is patient toward you, not wanting anyone to perish but all to change their hearts and lives.”
I don’t know if Little Tiger is changing his cat heart or his cat life. But I knew that it was worth a little cat hair on my trousers for us to have a moment together. And though I was tempted to think, “What took so long,” I found myself happy for slow change. Patience really is a virtue.
Written By: Chris Mesa