Proof God knows our hearts and cares deeply about what matters to us.
By Susan Farr-Fahncke
I awoke at 2:00 a.m. To find my eight-year-old Noah in tears at my bedside. “I miss B.B.” He signed to me. Noah is deaf, and B.B. Is his best friend and his cat. She has slept snuggled up to him for the past four years, and only a few days after we moved to our new home in Kansas, B.B. Disappeared.
My heart ached for Noah, as only a mother’s can when she knows her child is hurting. The day we realized B.B. Had somehow gotten out of the house, we began right away to search for her. We searched the neighborhood over and over. We hung up signs and offered a reward and placed an ad in our city paper. We drove around our town and the kids rode bikes in search of her. And we prayed. Still no B.B. She had just vanished.
I felt in my heart that we would never see her again. In all the years we had had her, she had never, ever missed a single night of sleeping next to Noah. Noah seemed so lost and lonely without his faithful friend by his side. As the days wore on, it became evident that B.B. Was not coming home. A few phone calls in response to our ad brought only disappointment. Noah’s sweet companion was just gone.
With tears in my eyes, I gathered Noah into my arms and prayed with him yet again for the Lord to send B.B. Back to us. After tucking Noah back in bed, I felt restless and unable to sleep. I don’t think I can adequately explain how heart-wrenching it was to see my little blue-eyed boy so empty at the sudden loss of his dearest friend.
Noah is sometimes lonely because of his deafness, and his suffering physically hurt my heart. In his silent world, the softness, the gentle spirit, and constant company of B.B. Had always been a comfort to Noah. I have spent many nights in our new home watching out the window, repeatedly calling her name and hoping that she might somehow hear me and return to us. I knelt down again and begged the Lord to send this much-needed friend home.
I pleaded with the Lord, telling Him Noah had already experienced great loss in his life and he didn’t deserve this heartbreak.
His first cat passed away when Noah was tiny, but he still remembers burying her. Noah has also lost close family members, and gone through more sadness than any little boy should. I didn’t feel he needed any more “life lessons” right now. I begged and begged and prayed and prayed for B.B.’s return. I knew she was “just a cat” but the comfort and friendship she brought my sweet son were irreplaceable, and I desperately wanted this prayer answered. Time went by and still no B.B. Wherever we went, my eyes constantly scanned the countryside and neighborhoods for any sign of B.B.
I knew chances of her coming home were almost nonexistent, but I also knew that God could work any miracle, even one seemingly so insignificant.
I prayed and prayed some more. I watched Noah gradually accept B.B’s loss, but his heartache did not lessen. Noah still missed B.B., especially late at night when she should be cuddled up next to him, asleep on his back or next to him on the pillow. I prayed harder and more than I ever had in my life. For some reason, I just felt that I could pray her back. And every now and then, in the middle of the night, I would go to the porch and call to B.B., still holding a tiny spark of hope inside my heart that she would come running across the lawn and back to our home.
Whenever we passed the “lost cat” poster for B.B. On our corner, I saw Noah’s face cloud as he was reminded of this loss in his life. His loneliness for his little friend was almost too much for me to bear. It has now been two months. Two months is impossibly long when an animal is missing. Last week I learned that coyotes live in the woods only two blocks behind our house. With a sick feeling, I realized that this had probably been what had become of our sweet little gray cat. I knew if she could, she would come back to Noah. She adored him and I finally admitted to myself that she must be dead.
Tears of sadness filled my eyes at the horror of what might have happened to her. Still I prayed. I often thought of the scripture to “pray without ceasing” and even after two months, I continued my vigil of prayer. My heart still yearned to be able to bring B.B. home. And then the most unexpected miracle happened. Yesterday my daughter, Maya, appeared in the doorway where I was working and she could barely get the words out. “You need to take me to my friend’s house! I think she found B.B!”
I could see that she was almost in tears, she was so excited. My heart fell. I didn’t want any more disappointment, for either of us. “Oh honey, it would be an absolute miracle if B.B. was still around.” I said. “But I’ll take you there. Don’t say anything to Noah.”
Leaving the boys with their dad, the girls and I headed off to her friend’s house. As we drove across the highway, I knew there was no way B.B. could have gotten this far. It would have been too much of a miracle. After all, it had been two months! Maya told me how in school she overheard her friend telling some other kids that a gray cat had suddenly shown up in her yard and she fed her, so now she was hanging around her house. We pulled into the driveway and I tried to brace Maya for disappointment.
This had happened a couple of times before and it was never B.B., so it just couldn’t be now, especially after so long. Maya’s friend held up a pet carrier and we opened it up. A soft bundle of gray fur and green eyes tumbled into my arms. I held her up and immediately felt a jolt of sadness. She did look like B.B., but she didn’t have the white “bikini top” spots that B.B. had on her chest. But boy, she looked like B.B.—right down to those green eyes!
Then the funniest thing happened. I moved my thumbs to pet her face and suddenly I saw the “bikini top” appear where my thumbs had been! B.B. meowed her unique, very loud “Rowrrr” at me and the tears just fell as I held our beloved miracle kitty close. “Oh, it’s really you! B.B.! It’s you, it’s you, it’s you!” “It’s B.B.!” I told the girls. Maya giggled and said, “Yeah, we got that.” With shaking hands, I loaded B.B. into the car. “It’s just a miracle, an absolute miracle!” I told the girls.
Minutes later we pulled into the driveway and practically floated in the front door with our little gray miracle in my arms. The look on Noah’s face was the most sweet, joyful expression I have ever seen. He blinked back tears and signed, “Oh, B.B.!” and gathered her into his arms and just beamed. “Whew!” he signed. I knew just how he felt.
That night we had some serious “thank You” prayers, rejoicing that not only had God brought this little miracle back to us, but He had completely protected her for two months. She was soft, healthy, and exactly the way she was the day she left.
I looked at her, curled up next to Noah, and I wonder where she had been, what had happened, but I know that she was in God’s arms, and He heard and answered a mother’s prayers. A gentle reminder that He hears all of our prayers, even the ones we might fear are too insignificant for Him. He knows our hearts and cares deeply about what matters to us. No prayer is ever insignificant and no miracle too small for Him.