Looking For Mischief

There is surely a future hope for you,
and your hope will not be cut off.

“CAN WE KEEP HIM, DAD? PLEASE!” eight-year-old Amy begged, unable to take her eyes off the orange-and-black cat that had followed her father home from work.

“We can keep her—while we try to find her owner,” her dad clarified.

Amy jumped up and down. “But what if she doesn’t have a family? Then can we keep her?”

“Try not to get too attached to the cat, Amy,” he said. But it was too late. Amy had already envisioned herself playing with the cat, whose half-black, half-orange nose delighted her and made her want to copy the cat’s look on her own face with finger paints.

Amy half-heartedly helped her parents hang signs around the neighborhood—and then had to resist ripping each one back down. But when several weeks passed without anyone contacting them, Amy became more confident that the little bicolored cat was theirs to keep.

Because of the cat’s knack for getting into trouble, Amy’s family began calling her Mischief. She certainly lived up to her name. She dug up plants, sharpened her claws on the outdoor furniture, left hairball confetti on the deck, and dropped various offerings at the back door.

One day Amy’s dad came home with a flea collar for Mischief.

“If we’re going to keep her, it’s our responsibility to take proper care of her. And that means helping her get rid of those pesky fleas,” he said, slipping the white collar around her neck.

Mischief wasn’t happy with the collar. She meowed loudly while attempting to scratch it off. Amy tried to reassure her kitty that the collar was for her own good, but Mischief still tried to get it off.

Eventually Mischief adjusted to the collar, and they all settled into a nice routine. But one day, several months after the family officially welcomed Mischief, the orange-and-black cat disappeared. They couldn’t find her anywhere. The signs they had once posted to find her owners were now hung up in the hopes of finding their cat.

But Mischief was gone.

Amy was heartbroken. She missed her cat and feared something bad had happened to her. And while life went on and Amy found comfort in her friends and being busy with school, her young heart ached for little Mischief.

Two months later, Amy glanced out the back door. “Dad!” she squealed. “Come quick! I think . . . Mischief is back!”

Amy ran outside after spotting a familiar orange-and-black shape walking in their backyard. The cat was a little thinner and missing her flea collar, but otherwise she looked fine. Amy picked her up and squeezed her tight.

“Oh, Mischief, don’t ever leave us again!” she said.

Over the next few days, Mischief fell right back into her routine. She would play with Amy after school, take her meals on the back deck, and try—often successfully—to sneak into the house to sleep at night. She even tolerated the new flea collar Amy’s dad put on her. Amy felt like all was right in her world once again.

But several months after finding her way back home, Mischief disappeared again. Amy hoped her cat would return like last time—which she did. And like the previous time, she returned without her flea collar.

Disappearing and reappearing became Mischief’s pattern. Amy’s family never could figure out where their cat disappeared to for months at a time, or how she managed to get her collar off. But in the end, it didn’t matter. They were just happy to have her back home—and would always open their arms and hearts wide to receive her.

PAWS & PONDER . . .

In spite of disappearing for long stretches of time, Mischief was always welcomed back—her hope of returning home was never cut off. Have you ever felt like your hope was cut off? What is the future hope to which Proverbs 23:18 is referring? How can the promise of a future hope help you endure a difficult season?

Paws & Pray

Lord, with so much brokenness, heartache, sickness, and grief in this world, it can be hard to feel hopeful. And yet my hope is not in this world. My hope is in you. Would you lift my gaze above my circumstances, my doubts, and my fears and allow me to see a glimpse of you today? Remind my heart that my hope—my home—is in you.