Yes, you read that right. Cats.
I have four of them. I provide for them all their earthly needs (they're all indoor cats) - food, water, shelter, poop rocks, etc. - and all I ask of or expect from them is their love and affection.
Sometimes they tear stuff up and act like idiots. Sometimes they get angry with me - especially when I stop them from doing things they want to do that make perfect sense to them but tend to piss me off. But I recognize that they are just cats - their brains can't comprehend logic at the more complex and nuanced human level - and I still love their silly furry butts even when they swat at and chew on me.
No matter how the day goes, where I go, or what I have to do that takes me away from the constant contact with the cats that they seem to both yearn for and spurn simultaneously, come Wine Time I will nigh-invariably find myself reflexively petting a purring furry lap tumor. Those twenty minutes or so a night where I connect so completely with the cats are some of the most precious of my day. Every day. I never get tired of it, and I feel a touch of sadness if a day goes by without it.
Such is the analogy I perceive for our relationship wih God. We are the cats - precocious, presumptuous, self-absorbed and simplistic, but in the end we seek the love and approval of God (who in this analogy is played by me - analogy nowhere near drawn to scale.) And I can't help but think that God, after watching us act like complete goobers, forgetting his instructions, neglecting his guidance, and even sometimes out-and-out spiting Him, joyfully accepts the lot of it so He gets that time of day where He connects with us on the couch.
