A little over four years ago, during a brutal, subzero cold snap in western Nebraska, I went to sleep with no idea my life was about to change. The next morning, my husband Jeff greeted me with an unexpected statement:

“I’m pretty sure I heard meowing in our attic at about midnight last night.”

Seriously? It sounded absurd. A neighbor suggested we put a security camera in our attic with a dish of cat food. We did this, and less than an hour later I checked the app, and there on my screen was a young cat with a visible injury on his nose. He was eating the food as fast as he could. My heart both broke for this desperate cat and felt a thrill of amazement. Could this even be real? 

Now that we knew we had a cat in our attic, how were we supposed to get him out? Our attic is such that a person can’t easily climb inside. Even if we could have, we did not know if the cat was friendly. Was he someone’s missing pet? Was he a feral cat? We had no way to know.

After several companies were unable to help, I called the non-emergency police line (because they oversee animal control). They brought us a live trap and suggested we bait it with tuna. We placed the trap in our garage, and within hours we had trapped a beautiful, terrified black cat with a deep wound on his nose. 

We brought him to a vet for medical care. They checked him for a microchip, vaccinated him, neutered him, and told us we had a feral cat on our hands. He was unlikely to be adopted because he was unsocialized, but they believed we could rehab this “scaredy cat” if we were willing to put in the work. They warned us it could take months before the cat would trust us, if he ever learned to trust us at all.

We brought him home with us and made him his own space in our laundry room. We gave him a cat tree, a bed, food, and water. He discovered a space behind the washing machine, and he began to make it his own. He would find items around the house and bring them into his hiding spot–everything from playing cards to socks. 

He made his hidey hole comfortable, but he was afraid of us. Determined to earn the trust of this beautiful black cat, I started talking to him every day, multiple times a day. First thing in the morning, I would sit on the laundry room floor and talk to him. I read stories. I told him about my day. I asked him if he was feeling any safer with us. Around lunch time, I would take a telescopic backscratcher and try to pet him with it behind the washing machine. After giving him a few pets, I would drop some treats to him. 

In the evenings, I would spend more time with him, and I started making a trail out of squeezy treats in the hopes of luring him out of his hiding place. It took two months, but one day, this terrified little cat we named Atticus not only came out from behind the washing machine, he let me pet his head. 

Gradually, Atticus began to explore more of the house. He became more trusting of the people in the house–at first just me, but eventually my husband and our kids. Now, he is the most affectionate cat you could imagine. He loves sitting in my lap, and if I’m not paying enough attention to him, he gently presses his forehead into my chin.

Atticus came into our lives right when we were trying to relearn what life was like after COVID restrictions. He broke into our attic when my cat-allergic son was praying at night for a cat (and, amazingly, my son has had no allergy issues with Atticus). He crashed into our laundry room when I was feeling anxious, struggling to find joy, and wondering if I would ever be able to find my way again.

Atticus made his way into our lives, and he reminded me of the truth of two of my all-time favorite quotes:

I do not understand the mystery of grace — only that it meets us where we are and does not leave us where it found us. –  Anne Lamott

Joy does not simply happen to us. We have to choose joy and keep choosing it every day. – Henri J.M. Nouwen

At a time when I was struggling, grace took up residence in my attic. When my life was so scattered and busy I couldn’t see the joy, joy made its home behind my washing machine. All I had to do was show up.