Unschooling Cats and Rats and Trust

Did you hear that we’ve had lots of rain recently? It’s brought everything back to life after the bushfires. The burnt bush is regenerating. We’ve got grass, instead of stubble, in our back garden. It’s lush and green and knee-deep.

We have new life inside our home as well. There are rats living upstairs in our roof space. They are huge.

Yesterday, Gemma-Rose asked me, “Why did God create rats?” As far as she could see, they don’t contribute anything useful to the world.

My youngest daughter said, “They’re not even good to eat!”

Imagine eating rats. Could you do that?

“I know someone who ate rats,” I said. “They kept him alive.”

And then I told the story of Fr Fred who was our parish priest when our son died.

A couple of days after Thomas’ death, I visited Fr Fred to arrange the funeral. Fr asked me how I was doing.

”I’m angry!” I said. “I’m angry with the doctors who said Thomas was going to die. They wouldn’t listen to me when I said God could save him. And I’m angry with God. I prayed so hard. I wanted Thomas so much. I told everyone that God can work miracles. Why didn’t He save Thomas? Why did he let him die?”

Why would God allow such suffering? It didn’t make any sense to me. I wondered: would I survive the pain?

Fr Fred told me that when he was younger, he’d also been angry with God. And then he shared this story:

When Fr Fred was a seminarian in Vietnam, the communist government arrested him and put him in prison. Conditions were harsh. Fr Fred and the other seminarians weren’t given enough to eat. They had to eat rats to survive. At the time, Fr Fred wondered why God had allowed such terrible things to happen to him. Didn’t God know how much Fr Fred loved Him. He’d been willing to give his life to God and answer the call to the priesthood, but look where he’d ended up. It made no sense.

Fr Fred’s anger with God eventually disappeared. He accepted his situation. And he trusted that God would rescue him, that his suffering had meaning.

After Fr Fred was released from prison, he came to Australia to a life he could never have imagined. Although it had been hard at times to see it, God had been looking after Fr Fred.

And God was looking after me. He hadn’t abandoned me. That’s what Fr Fred told me. I just had to trust.

“If there were no rats in the world,” I said to Gemma-Rose, “Fr Fred would have died.” He wouldn’t have become a priest. We wouldn’t have met him. He’d never have carried Thomas’ coffin to his grave. He would never have comforted me when I was struggling to survive. He wouldn’t have taught me about trust.

I suppose God created rats for a very good reason.

After I finished this story, I thought, “Did Fr Fred really eat rats?” Perhaps my memory isn’t reliable. Could I only have imagined Fr saying, “We ate rats to survive”?

I kept a diary for the year after Thomas’ death. Wondering if I’d written an entry about Fr Fred’s experience in the prison, I hunted out my journal and turned the pages until I came to these words:

Fr Fred invited me into the presbytery and we talked about being angry with God. He was angry with God when he was in prison in Vietnam for being a seminarian. I know Fr Fred underwent such great suffering. Fr reassured me that looking back you can see the good that comes out of a period of suffering. And looking at Fr, there is hope…

There is more, but there’s nothing about rats.

It’s strange how we can believe something. It’s definitely part of the story. But then we start to question: did I make that up? Perhaps our brains find it hard to accept things that are out of the ordinary. They try and bring us back to what we know.

But Fr Fred must have eaten rats to survive. That really happened. If it didn’t, why did God create rats?

Something Extra

I have another short story about trust. I posted it recently on Instagram.

This is my youngest daughter, Gemma-Rose, and our dog Nora. Nora eats cats. It’s not her fault. Someone bred her for hunting. And then abandoned her. Then we rescued her.

As well as Nora, we have another dog. And we also have three cats. A cat-eating dog and three cats? Life is very interesting.

Usually, we keep the cats and Nora separated. But sometimes the dog slips past us. With a grin on her face, Nora chases the cats through the house. The cats run. The cats hiss. We yell, “Grab the cats!” We lunge. The cats scratch. We yell, “Catch Nora!” We throw ourselves on the dog. We drag her to the door and push her back into the garden. Then we examine our wounds: some angry red cat scratches on our arms and a few bruises on our knees.

At night, Nora sleeps in my bedroom. Each morning, I take her by her collar and march her from the bedroom through the house to the back door. Along the way, we have to pass the three cats. You’d think they’d run as soon as Nora appeared, wouldn’t you? But they don’t. They continue doing whatever they’re doing. They refuse to get out of our way.

The cats know how dangerous Nora is. So why do they not run away as soon as they see the dog? Is it because they trust me? Do they know Nora can’t hurt them as long as I’m holding her collar?

Trust. Total trust. Do our kids have that kind of trust in us? Do they feel safe when we’re around? Nothing can harm them while we’re there. We’re their safe place. Their refuge from the world. When we love our kids unconditionally, forgive their mistakes instantly, accept them for who they are, and trust them, they trust us. Trust? It’s the foundation of unschooling, isn’t it?

Photos

The dog photo was taken a few years ago when Nora was a puppy and Gemma-Rose was 11.

The cat photos were taken fairly recently. Our cats are fat and lazy and rather old. They can’t catch rats. But Nora can.

Our dog Nora eats cats and rats. It’s not her fault. Someone bred her for hunting…

So, I’m wondering

Do you have a rat story? Perhaps it’s a good one. Some people like rats.

Our son Callum once had a pet rat. It was called Mr Tulip. For a short time, Callum had two rats. But Mr Tulip wasn’t happy with his new cage mate. In the dead of night, a murder was committed. The next morning, Callum discovered Mr Tulip grinning. He was now the one and only pet rat.