“Happy Easter?”
That is the first thing EA said to me as I woke up on Easter morning. I stretched and rubbed my eyes.
“I still believe in Jesus. It’s just the church that I’m not sure about.”
Some context: This was the first Easter in our 20+ years of marriage (and likely in either of our lives) in which we did not have a church to attend. It’s been about a year since we’ve gone to church as a family. Honestly, the church that we attended after I stepped down from working in a congregation had a tall order to tend to our hurting family. It was a good group of people, but the services and community never really clicked with our boys. Then early last year, I got moved to a Sunday morning shift. EA tried for a bit to go by herself but it wasn’t what she needed. In the end, I was gone for about eight months before anyone in the church really noticed and we decided to take a break.
I acknowledge my uncertainty about the church is a bit over-dramatic. Of course, there are great churches out there. There are wonderful people in congregations where my family and I have experienced the most pain. It’s akin to writing off burritos for life because you got violent food poisoning from one (This is based on a true story; I have not written off burritos just that particular Chipotle location). But the church hurt is real. As is the MAGA-fication of the denomination in which I grew up that feels so antithetical to the teachings of Jesus. So we don’t have a place to call home and it’s weird and sad and understandable.
And again, it’s weird because, like I said that Easter morning, I believe in Jesus. I would love to be in a church, but finding that church is a leap of faith on a wounded leg. You hope that it’s going to be okay, but hope is a tricky thing. That’s where the story of Vader comes in.
We woke up that Easter morning in South Carolina. After a lovely brunch with my folks, we loaded up and started the drive back to Nashville. Somewhere early in the trip we got the text that our cat Vader had escaped from the house of EA’s dad and he was lost.
Vader has been part of our family for over two years. Our youngest, who was going through some struggles with anxiety at the time, really wanted a cat. Having never had a cat, I was hesitant. Yet when we discovered a rescue at our local shelter who was named after Liam’s favorite Star Wars character, we took the plunge. Vader has become a beloved member of our family. He is very fond of curling up in my lap. He also wakes me up virtually every night so I can pour food into an already full bowl. I love Vader and he is also a punk. So I guess he has that in common with the church.
We drove straight to the house where EA’s dad lives and spent hours looking for our cat. Liam and I stayed until well after the sun went down. There was no sign of Vader. I remember at one point that evening saying out loud, “God, you can bring Jesus back from the dead but you can’t bring home one effing lost cat?”
Again, overdramatic and not how prayer works. There are many, many more pressing prayers in the world. But our family was slowly descending into despair and I was frustrated. If Vader never came home, I knew that it would gut my boys.
Monday night, EA saw Vader but was not able to get to him. Tuesday morning, I saw the cat chilling in a lounge chair in a neighbor’s backyard. I called out to him and he just stared at me because, again, he can be a bit of a punk. As we tried to get a ladder to get into the yard, Vader got spooked and ran off. When we all returned to the house for several hours that night, there was no sign of him. I went back over Wednesday morning and, again, there was no Vader.
We had been told by people that lost cats rarely stray far from where they escape. We had seen Vader a few times. We had hope, but holding onto that hope seemed risky. EA and I had a text conversation on Wednesday morning about what would happen if Vader never came home. Hope was keeping everyone okay for the time being, but what if the bottom fell out? Not every ending is happy.
One of EA’s good friends is a cat whisperer and she gave us a few traps (as well as coming over to help in the search). I spent all day Wednesday doing some Wile E. Coyote-type stuff hoping that maybe I could snag the elusive cat. After I ate lunch that afternoon, I decided to leave my post and stretch my legs for a moment. I heard a sound in the brush. I squatted down and saw Vader’s little head.
Much transpired over the next four-plus hours. Vader went from the brush to a storm drain. I laid on my stomach and talked to him for 45 minutes; not willing to let my eyes off of him while I waited for reinforcements. EA’s parents eventually came a closed up one side of the drain pipe. We taped a trap to the other end. EA’s friend brought a rotisserie chicken and we tried to lure Vader out. EA and Liam came straight from school. I went to Home Depot and bought 20 feet worth of PVC pipe. Liam crawled into the brush with pipe and finally got Vader to run into the trap. He was back with his people. The cat has been sitting in my lap as I have written most of this.
At the end of the day, it took persistence, timing, a little bit of luck, and a community to ultimately bring our cat home. Because I always try to draw connects, I wonder if the same is true for us finding a church home. That’s what I am going to hope even as I know that hope can set you up for more hurt. Not every ending is happy. Yet maybe this one still will be.