Have you ever seen that video of the crazy cat girl crying because she loves cats? If not, here you go.


You’re welcome.

Now I can sit here and laugh at this girl, but in all reality, she’s sort of me. I lost my kitty on Saturday night. Those of you that know me know my love (borderline obsession) with cats, but specifically, my Muka. She was my world, and I was hers. We went way back—16 years. We shared this weird human-cat bond. My room was her room—or should I say, HER room was my room, too. HER bed also just happened to be my bed. We were forever roomies.



Muki was always there—always. She didn’t care what mood I was in, she was solely in the business of loving me anyway. If I had a bad day, she was there to hang in bed with me and lick my sorrows away. If I was having a great day, she was there to celebrate with me by chasing around a little string in enjoyment. If I was angry, she just hung out at the end of the bed, giving me my space, but waiting for my attitude to subside so she can cuddle. Muka walked with me through my first heartbreak (my many heartbreaks), she was there through the awkwardness of puberty, she mourned my leaving for college (really—she’d walk around the house meowing and looking for me every time I’d leave). Muka saw me go from child to adult—remaining loyal, faithful, and pretty neutral through all of life’s phases. She was a sassy and dramatic little thing, so much so, we actually had to put her on anti-anxiety meds one time because we moved houses, and she just…couldn’t handle the stress. She was a tiny almost-humanoid.


No matter what time I called, Muka would come. Literally. There are very few cats that come when you call their name. My friends would laugh that Muki lived for me and me alone, and frankly, she did. I was her world. And I loved it that way. If my other cats got on the bed, she would be sure to let them know her disapproval. A hiss, growl or even a smack later, and they would be gone, and I would be solely hers once again.


When Muki was young I taught her how to hang out on my shoulder. She would sit perched on my shoulder like a bird, and I would walk around the house doing my chores (or whatever) as she sat with her two little paws on my forearm. She was my forever buddy. I always dreaded the day I would have to say goodbye to her. Tears would swell up, as I would tell her how much I would miss her.


As the years started passing, my girl started getting weaker…as old age does to you. She started moving a little slower, playing a little less, sleeping a little more. But as the older my girl got, the stronger her little cat-love for me grew. The more care of her I took, and the more our little bond increased.

Well, inevitably the day came when it was time for my girl to go. It was horrible, watching my first little love die. I could go into detail here about how traumatizing it was to watch, but I’ll spare you (and myself) the drama. It’s hard enough to control the tears rolling down my face right now. Those of you who have ever bonded closely with a pet understand how hard it is to say goodbye. So hard. I miss my Muki dearly, but as I mourn her death and celebrate her life, I am reminded of two beautiful realities:

  1. Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights (James 1:17)

Our Father above gives good gifts. His greatest gift? Himself—Jesus. Our Father gave us Himself as a gift. The Creator of the Universe—the Creator of my little girl, Muki, not only gave me her, but He gave me HIMself to enjoy forever. What greater gift is there than that? I can enjoy God freely. And because I can enjoy and savor God freely, I can enjoy and savor His gifts, just as they are—gifts. God loaned me His beautiful, little, loving and loyal creature, Muka for me to enjoy—and as I adore her as a gift, I can praise Him for it. He trusted me with His little creation. And through her, gave me the tiniest little glimpse of what His unconditional love is like. Now I don’t have a child, but I can only imagine what this is like on a grander scale.

“Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!” (Matthew 7:9-11)

Our Father above gives good gifts. Not to make you more comfortable here on Earth, but to make HIS glory more known. His gifts don’t just stop at enjoying them, but they roll over into giving Him praise. Isn’t that wonderful? How deep His love is, that gifts turn into praise, which turn into adoration for God, which then turn into increased joy for us.

So as I mourn my sweet girl, I thank God for the beautiful gift that was her life, and for using her to increase my joy, and love HIM all the more.


  1. The sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing to the glory that will be revealed to us (Romans 8:18)

Death sucks. Crazy thing is, we know it’s coming for ALL of us. Doesn’t matter who or what you are. Death is just around the bend. But even though we all know and see it, it still hurts like hell. I lost my kitty and I’m crying like a lost little child, I can’t imagine those of us who have lost a human that close to us. As I watched my girl take her last breaths, fighting, literally fighting for her life, I couldn’t help but think, “man, this will be me one day,” and for the first time in a long time I thought, “come, Jesus, come back and end this already.”

You see, when God makes all things new, He promises to remove this sting of death. In other words, there will be no more of it. No more suffering. No more last breaths. No more sin. Isn’t this something we all long for? We all long for a life without death—it’s in our DNA. Why? Because God wired us that way. He wired us to long for eternity. And what an incredible thing is it to look forward to.

A life without sin. Some (well-intentioned) believers like to make sin out to be this list of what you can’t do…and to an extent, sure, that’s true. But sin isn’t just things you don’t do. Sin is a disease. It’s everywhere. Sin is like a cancer, eating away at our bodies. But not only our bodies, sin is a cancer that’s eating away at everything—the world is a wacky place because of sin. Just turn on the news! Not only do we have horrific things like murder, rape, abuse, on a daily basis, but even nature is out of whack. Tsunamis, hurricanes, earthquakes, tornadoes, you name it. You know the weeds growing in your back yard that keep killing the beautiful plants you are trying to grow? That’s sin for ya. Anything in this beautiful world that isn’t perfection…is sin. Everything, and I mean everything, is infected with this horrific cancer.

One of my favorite passages in all of scripture was written by Paul to the church in Rome. He spoke about creation and sin in this way:

“For all creation is waiting eagerly for that future day for the revealing of the sons of God. Against its will, all creation was subjected to God’s curse. But with eager hope, the creation looks forward to the day when it will join God’s children in glorious freedom from death and decay. For we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.  And we believers also groan, even though we have the Holy Spirit within us as a foretaste of future glory, for we long for our bodies to be released from sin and suffering. We, too, wait with eager hope for the day when God will give us our full rights as his adopted children, including the new bodies he has promised us. We were given this hope when we were saved. (If we already have something, we don’t need to hope for it.  But if we look forward to something we don’t yet have, we must wait patiently and confidently.)”

You see, we all groan to be released from this cancer of sin. We groan when we turn on the TV and watch hundreds of people die every day.

But what blows my mind is that even creation is groaning, waiting for the day it will be set free from this sin disease. As I saw my little Muki groaning on her death bed, I couldn’t help but pray for the day this would all be over—the day Jesus would come back and make everything right. Although we wait patiently for that day, we still wait in hope. We wait knowing that Jesus is still with us. And as our Savior, He is the chemotherapy flowing through our body, working to stop the cancer cells from dividing uncontrollably.

Dear friend, have you experienced the stings of sin recently? Whether that be in the form of death, a loss, hurtful news, a painful circumstance. Are you groaning inwardly along with the rest of creation for perfection, for eternity? Don’t let the cancer win. Let Jesus be the chemotherapy you need for your soul to live. Repent of this sin living inside of you, dear friend, and believe that He is coming one day to rid His creation of it.