Years ago, our family found a half-starved, beat-up, black kitten that looked like it wouldn't make it. My children brought it to me, wanting me to help it. I named it after a recently deceased friend of mine as a reminder to me to pray for her family. Frances comes in every morning to eat. Then she comes to where I am to spend a few minutes with me. She does not meow and demand my attention. She does not step on my laptop and interrupt my morning work. She simply sits there quietly. I think she is thanking me. When she's done, she goes to the door and asks me to open it, and goes about her day. Frances is beside me now, purring with her warm, soft body pressed against my arm. Her consistency and faithfulness in gratitude are a touching reminder of how much more we should remember what Christ has done for us.
