Mustang Burkhalter

My cat Mustang was put to sleep two weeks ago today. He wasn't our family's first cat, but he was the first that was "mine". At 14 years old, he lived a nice long kitty life. Most days were spent lounging around, eating, and in the later years, playing with his sister-cat Lucy (aka Queen Kong, named for her black fur and 20 pound frame). Not exactly a life full of purpose and meaning, but sufficient for a cat I suppose.

Mustang was not an especially affectionate cat. He didn't do any tricks. He ran away from me a lot. But I loved him, simply because he was mine. I didn't realize these feelings until these past two weeks. It has given me an insight--albeit on a MUCH smaller scale--of how God feels towards the Sons of Abraham. Though we aren't especially affectionate towards God (except on occasion), though we don't do as many deeds as we should, though we run away from Him constantly, He loves us simply because we are His. Because we were bought with a price.*

I have also been thinking about the finite nature of animals. Some say it is hard to grip the concept of a human's semi-infinite soul (having a beginning but no end). However, I'm having a harder time dealing with an animals finite soul. Or do they even have souls? They certainly have personality and breath in their lungs. How can a soul just cease to exist? The Bible offers little insight here.

And finally, I thought a lot about the fact that we, in essence, were killing him. At first, it didn't sit well with me. Shouldn't we be trusting God with life and death? How is this different than pulling the plug on a vegetable or abortion? God has not given us the authority to do such things. Then I remembered that God said to Adam, "Rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air and over every living creature that moves on the ground." Although we do not have the authority to take the life of another human, we do have authority over animals. So, we decided it was best to relieve Mustang of his pain (he had a large tumor in his spleen which was giving him jaundice).

I will miss seeing him when I come home. I'll miss him jumping into bed with me in the middle of the night. I'll miss him playfully biting my hand.

I'll still love him though, simply because he was mine.

*1 Cor. 6:20

Itzhak Perlman

For the second time in my life tonight, I got to see Itzhak Perlman play the violin.

I hate to use the word "play". I play the violin. Lots of people play the violin. What Perlman does is completely different. It's as if the violin is a natural extension of his body. The firm gentleness he plays with comes from more than just years of rigorous practice. It comes from being connected to the instrument in a way that only violinists know. It comes from deeply understanding each and every piece that he plays. It comes from a God-given passion and ability. And, of course, it comes from years of rigorous practice.

I could go on and on about his technique, especially his bowing hand, but I realize no one wants to hear about that. What most people love about Itzhak is his demeanor. He is extremely passionate about the music he plays, but he also doesn't take himself too seriously. Most violinists I have seen (cough, Joshua Bell, cough) act extremely professional on stage. A little too professional. And far too serious. It's music, not a business proposal! Jokes in between songs are acceptable. It won't take away from the depth of the music.

A few years back, I made a note to myself. It read,

"The Two Rules of Life

1. Remember that what we do with our lives is of the utmost importance.

2. Don't take yourself too seriously."

Paradoxical? Almost, but not quite. It just requires some thinking.

Anyway, back to Perlman. If you EVER get the chance to see him live, DO IT. Even non-violinists can appreciate his playing...er, music making. He's quite the performer and entertaining to watch even if you don't know who Fritz Kriesler is.

I'll leave you with this video, but don't think for a minute that it does him any justice.