What my Ringworm-Infested Kitten Taught Me about Jesus

 

We adopted a new kitten a few weeks ago.

Bluelight is friendly, sweet, and social, with shiny black fur and bright green-blue eyes.

When we first got her, Bluelight had a few scaly patches on her nose and ears that made me wonder if there was something wrong. She was also a little scabby on her belly and tail, and I hoped that with good care and good nutrition, those issues would resolve themselves. 2 ½ weeks after we adopted her, the first white and red circular mark appeared on my 4-Year-Old’s arm.  

“If I didn’t know better,” I thought to myself, “I’d think that was ringworm.” A quick google images search confirmed my worst fears. It was indeed ringworm. And, according to the articles I began feverishly hunting through, the most likely infectious culprit was Bluelight the Kitten.

What had I done? I had unknowingly introduced a sick kitten into an otherwise healthy household, and now she was infecting my children, who have been gleefully sleeping with, playing with, and rubbing all over the kitten for nearly 3 weeks. Two days after the appearance of the first lesion, the 4-year-old and the 6-year-old (apparently small children are most susceptible to ringworm) each had three ringworm lesions. I began deep-cleaning the house, changing all the sheets, quarantining the kitten, checking the children for ringworm twice a day and treating the lesions with Lotrimin.

Did I mention I’m having a baby in about a month? I really, truly, deeply, and passionately do not want ringworm living in my house with my newborn.

 Thankfully, it is fairly easy to treat ringworm in human children. With constant vigilance about keeping the lesions covered to prevent re-infection, constant sheet and clothing changes, daily soothing baths and constant application of Lotrimin, the girls are healing well and have never been in any pain or discomfort throughout the ordeal. Unless you count the pain of having to wear leg-covering pants every day instead of a princess dress.  

The kitten is a little more difficult to treat, but between the Epsom Salt baths, the Lotrimin, and the medicated soaps, I think she is also well on her way to someday being out of quarantine.

Part of me berates myself for adopting her. My husband, who has much sympathy for humans, but little sympathy for animals, wonders if I regret that choice. It is a hard question. I told him to ask me again in a few weeks after the girls are healed, and after Bluelight has shown more progress in her treatment.

This morning, as I was changing the kitten’s bedding and smearing her dry little scabs with anti-fungal cream (Bluelight hates anti-fungal cream,) I thought of Jesus.

Whenever He adopts a new baby Christian into His family, they carry infection with them. They carry the sins, burdens, and vices, (often inherited from their earthly parents, just as Bluelight most likely inherited her ringworm from her cat-mother) of their old lives into their new family. It takes Jesus time to clean them up, and gently remove the sins that have entangled them. And in this process of sanctification and cleansing, there is an inherent risk to His other children, the Church. Sin is infectious, especially to the youngest members of the church.

Not only does Jesus have to clean up the new baby Christian He has adopted, He has to clean up the immature Christians who have fallen prey to the infectious sin that has entered the church with the new Baby.

Yet Jesus considers this risk worthwhile. It is His greatest hope that new baby Christians will be adopted into His family every day. I was once such a baby Christian, and you probably were, too. I am glad He took a chance on me, though I’ve made my fair share of messes in the churches and families I’ve been a part of. And what is Jesus’s reward for all the Lotrimin smearing, extra laundry, and sulfur soap baths? What does He hope to gain from it? Why, more children, of course. More healthy, strong, children. If He never adopted new babies into His family, He might have less work to do, but the family of God would be much smaller, and the world would be poorer for it.  

Though I feel like a bit of a fool for adopting a ringworm-infested cat, (and though we’re not ready to take her out of quarantine yet), if I can heal the cat and the children, my reward will be a healthy, happy, kitten-rich household.  I am praying that God will give me the wisdom and resources to accomplish all of that, especially before our human newborn arrives near the end of June.

Bluelight says, "Can I Come Out of Quarantine and Play Yet?"