The Imperfect Gift

Buttons, my imperfect gift

This morning, as I bent down to pet my cat, I thought of what a gift he's been for me these past 13 years. He came into my life when he was found in the leaves, abandoned by his mother, a kitten of perhaps four or five weeks. He was scrawny, full of fleas, ear mites, and undernourished. At the time I was living at the monastery in MA. I nourished him, got him his shots, cleaned him up, and became his surrogate "mom". He's been with me ever since, through five moves and four states. He still sleeps on my feet most nights, loves to greet me when I return home, and continues to show remarkable energy for a 13 year old.

Yet, he is far from perfect. His mother having been a ferral cat, he still has strains of the wild in him. I never know when it will hit him to attack me for no apparent reason. I've learned the warning signs and can usually flee before it happens.He is also a very aloof cat, has never come to sit on my lap and will only allow me to hold him for about 7 seconds.

Yet, he is my gift. And as I left him this morning, and thought about all the above, I realized that our gifts don't have to be perfect to be appreciated. For whatever reason (and I'm not going to philosophize here) most gifts God gives us are imperfect. I think we need to accept that fact, or perhaps, even expect it.

An imperfect gift is still a gift. Maybe its God's way of helping us see life in the same manner. To concentrate on what is good instead of complaining about what is not. For I know few gifts that are perfect. But I know many imperfect gifts I would not want to lose.