Tiny Tim’s Tiny Towel

Better to have little, with fear for the LORD, than to have great treasure and inner turmoil.

PAM STARED AT THE TINY, malnourished black cat that the veterinarian had placed in her arms.

“At first, I didn’t think he was going to make it,” Dr. Stephens said. “But he’s a fighter.”

Pam had never intended on rehabilitating and fostering cats. But several years ago, after discovering an injured gray-and-black cat in her backyard, nursing her back to health, and then finding the cat a loving home, it seemed as if every stray cat within a ten-mile radius knew about the lady in the beige ranch house on Birch Street who had a soft spot for unloved cats. And if the cats didn’t find her themselves, Pam’s veterinarian friend of the past ten years was eager to pass along their request for help.

The little black cat squirmed in Pam’s arms. She could feel every one of his ribs. As Pam’s heart ached for the neglected cat, her mind went to the three butterballs she was currently fostering. Each one had come to her malnourished and weak, but all had quickly gained weight and confidence under her care. She was hopeful they would soon find good homes, but until then they would have to adjust to Tiny Tim—as Pam decided to call this little guy in her arms. He didn’t have a limp like the beloved character from one of her favorite novels, A Christmas Carol, but the name just seemed to fit.

As Pam left Dr. Stephens’s office with her new charge, her phone dinged.

Max and Sydney’s offer was accepted, the text from her mom read. We’re having a celebratory dinner tomorrow night at 7.

Pam wanted to be happy for her brother and sister-in-law’s new house, but it was hard to muster the feelings. Their current house was twice the size of hers. She couldn’t imagine what this new one looked like. Pam buckled the carrier into the back of her sedan and headed home.

She loved her brother and was glad he had a job he liked that paid him more money in one year than she would make in five as a middle school science teacher. But when was it ever going to be her turn for a celebratory dinner? Or a new house? Or a car with less than 100,000 miles?

Tiny Tim let out a pitiful mew as Pam turned into the driveway of her nine-hundred-square-foot house.

“Welcome home, little one,” Pam said. “It’s not much, but it’s ours.”

Einstein, Newton, and Ms. Curie, the three cats Pam had been fostering the past five weeks, met her at the door. The trio of orange-and-beige cats sniffed the carrier as Pam walked Tiny Tim to the laundry room, a quiet place for him to adjust to his new surroundings away from the other three cats.

As the tiny cat crept from the carrier, Pam gasped at how scrawny he was in comparison to the other cats. Pam set out Tiny Tim’s food and water and gave the litter box a shake before sliding the pocket door closed. She put her ear to the door and could hear a faint crunching sound. Eat up, sweet Tim.

Einstein, Newton, and Ms. Curie demanded their bowls be filled too.

“Okay, okay,” Pam said, surrendering to their persistent yowls.

As the trio made quick work of their dinner, Pam eased the pocket door open to check on Tiny Tim. The little black cat was curled up on a dishtowel Pam had tossed in the room earlier. She had aimed for the washing machine but missed. “I won’t disturb you, little guy,” she whispered, smiling to herself as she slid the door shut.

The next morning, Pam found Tiny Tim lying on the same towel—even though she had put a new cat bed in the laundry room for him. Einstein, Newton, and Ms. Curie loved their beds, but Tiny Tim seemed content on the small gray stained towel. You’re welcome to it.

Days later, even after being greeted by Einstein, Newton, and Ms. Curie and checking out their beds, Tiny Tim still preferred his dish towel to his cat bed. He also seemed to prefer his little towel to the toys Pam offered him. The other three cats wrestled, chased, and pawed at the toys, but Tiny Tim was content to watch from his small piece of cloth.

A month after bringing Tiny Tim home, Pam stood in the foyer of her brother’s massive new house, feeling pangs of jealousy and insecurity. But then she pictured Tiny Tim’s little towel and smiled. Thank you for showing me what contentment looks like, Tiny Tim. I’m grateful for my little house with lots of room for cats.

PAWS & PONDER . . .

What do you think the phrase “with fear for the LORD” means in Proverbs 15:16? How might having a correct view and reverence for God and his sovereignty affect our contentment? How might having an incorrect view of God and his sovereignty lead to inner turmoil?

Paws & Pray

God, please forgive me for running after things that don’t honor you. Help me to see you as you are—the almighty, holy, righteous God who loves me more than I will ever be able to comprehend. I want to know deep in my soul that even when I may have little in the world’s eyes, I am rich beyond imagining. You are my greatest treasure.