I have a cat. I say that because there are a lot of people who are unaware that we have a cat in our house. In fact, we had a family member visiting not that long ago who asked: “When did you get a cat?”.
Our cat is seventeen years old, so yeah… we’ve had her for a bit.
The reason is that she was kind of anti-social. She was fine with us, but if company came to visit… she was a ghost. Slinking in and out of shadows, hiding in dark corners; you’d never know she was here.
In the last couple of years, however, she’s become the fixture in our home. She visits people, even if they’ve only come into the house for the first time. She has no cares about invading your space. She despised our doxie, and now the two of them share space (we’re not at cuddling… yet).
I joked with my daughter that she had entered that time of the golden years when elderly people no longer care what people think. Where they wear what they want, go where they want, say whatever comes to mind, and couldn’t care less of how others receive them. Our cat has decided to live her best life in her golden years, and her playfulness and social visits are evidence of that truth.
We were discussing this a few nights ago, and I said… I hope that when I am the equivalent to her age as a human that I feel the same way. Where I will wear whatever I want, do whatever I want, say what I really think, and have confidence in who I am. Let’s be honest, no matter how far we get from high school days, there is still an element of us that is concerned with how others perceive us. Our professional image, our ministry work, our family, etc area all impacted by how others view us. We’ve been trained to put our best foot forward, at all times.
John the Baptist didn’t care what others thought of him. Certainly there were those who thought he was a little off, gone mad, a little eccentric, etc. But those who followed him had no doubt that he was a man of God.
Maybe I won’t wait until I am in my 70’s or 80’s to embrace all the facets of my personality, which were crafted in my mother’s womb by God who knew my name before it was ever uttered by my parents.