One June 11, the feast...
Illustration
Object:
One June 11, the feast of Saint Barnabas, I went to the animal shelter. I was not looking
for the cutest kitten or the friendliest cat. I was on a specific mission. Since my gift is to
love any kind of cat, I was interested in one who was not easily adoptable. I looked at the
kittens and cats up for adoption and then I asked a question of the attendant who was
feeding them. "Is there one here who is having a really hard time getting adopted?" The
answer was immediate. "Yes. This one." Gus was a little roly-poly tabby kitten. "What is
the problem?" I asked. The attendant explained that a family had taken him home for a
week and then brought him back. It just didn't work out. It had happened twice. "Then
that settles it," I said. "I'll take Gus." Likewise, God did not die for us because we were
cute or righteous or cuddly. On our own, we had nothing going for us.
