The Mountain Kittens: God's Guidance in Everyday Life

Lately, I had been quietly asking Abba about kittens. Not casually browsing. Not impulsively searching. But genuinely praying about finding the right ones for our home.

Daniel and I kept saying the same thing over and over: “These need to be mountain cats.”

Living where we live in the mountains of North Carolina, we knew we needed kittens that were a little special — adaptable, resilient, calm, and able to thrive in this environment. We joked about it, but deep down, we both meant it seriously.

So I spent time looking online at shelters and rescue pages. There were hundreds of kittens I could have inquired about. Hundreds.

But then one particular picture appeared in my Facebook feed.

It was a picture of a little gray kitten and one of her brothers.

And instantly, something in my spirit said: “Go see these kittens.”

I cannot explain it logically. I just knew.

What’s interesting is that we never visited another shelter. We never even contacted another rescue. From that moment on, I already knew this was where we were supposed to go.

The rescue was called Mary’s Paws.

I called the woman who ran it (Mary), and from the very first conversation, I knew in my spirit she was a godly woman. She never announced it. She never preached. I simply recognized something familiar in her spirit immediately.

She gave us directions to her home.

And let me tell you… this woman lives hidden deep in the mountains. Hidden-hidden. The kind of place you would never accidentally stumble upon. The roads twisted farther and farther back into the mountains until Daniel and I just started laughing and saying: “Oh, these are definitely mountain cats.”

When we arrived, we found an elderly woman living a very simple life in a little cabin tucked away in the mountains. Then she brought us into the room where the kittens were being cared for.

The moment I stepped in, the atmosphere is what struck me the most.

There were multiple large kennels with different kitten families bundled together peacefully. Yet despite the number of cats, the room was completely calm.

Quiet.

Peaceful.

No chaos. No stress. No frantic meowing. No tension in the atmosphere. Not even the overwhelming smell you often notice in animal shelters.

If you’ve ever walked into a shelter before, you know what I mean. Sometimes you can immediately feel stress in the environment — barking, fear, agitation, noise.

This was the opposite.

It felt peaceful.

The kittens themselves reflected it too. They were relaxed, gentle, and settled.

And then she came right up to me.

The little girl kitten from the picture.

Not shy. Not fearful. Just curious and gentle.

She immediately began purring and softly playing with the string on my jacket like she had already decided I belonged to her.

Her brother was different — calm, steady, observant. Even as a tiny kitten, he carried this grounded strength about him.

Names:

Almost immediately after spending time with them, their names came: Boaz and Aliyah.

The names themselves ended up carrying even more meaning than we expected.

Boaz means:

“In him is strength.”

This little kitten already carried something steady about him. Calm. Grounded. Peaceful. Not frantic or fearful. Even as a tiny thing, he felt anchored. You can see it clearly, even in the picture.

Aliyah means:

“Ascending” or “drawing near.”

And that fit her immediately too.

She was the first one to come right up to me. Not timid. Not hesitant. Curious, affectionate, and confident in the gentlest way. She began purring instantly and trying to climb right into my arms like she had already decided she belonged with us.

But the deeper meaning of the names did not really hit us until afterward.

Because these names do not only reflect them. They reflect where Daniel and I are right now too.

Physically, we are living in the mountains — learning a slower, quieter, more intentional way of life. We have been drawn away from noise, striving, performance, and constant distraction into something more hidden, peaceful, and rooted.

Spiritually, we are in a season that feels marked by both of these names.

Boaz — strength. Not loud strength. Not forceful striving. But established strength. Covenant strength. The kind that comes from being planted deeply and remaining steady in Yahweh.

And then: Aliyah — ascent. The upward call. Drawing nearer. Going higher. Responding to the invitation to come up deeper into relationship, obedience, rest, and communion with Him.

That is exactly where we are.

Strength and ascent.

Grounded, yet drawing nearer. Hidden, yet growing. Established, yet still ascending.

And somehow, even these tiny mountain kittens became part of that story.

I do not believe Yahweh separates the spiritual from everyday life like we do. I think He delights in weaving His fingerprints into ordinary moments because relationship with Him was always meant to touch every part of life.

Even kittens. Even hidden mountain roads. Even names.

But the story isn't over.

After we chose them, we sat down to fill out some paperwork. As I looked around the room, I noticed a plaque sitting on the fireplace mantle.

It said something about Saturday being the Sabbath.

I pointed it out to Daniel, and of course he immediately asked her: “Are you a Sabbath keeper?”

She smiled and said: “Yes, I am. Are you?”

And in that moment, Daniel and I just looked at each other like…WOW.

Out of all the shelters. Out of all the rescues. Out of all the places we could have gone…

Abba led us to a hidden mountain cabin, to a peaceful Shabbat-keeping woman caring for animals with gentleness and rest.

You just can’t make this stuff up.

And honestly, this whole experience reminded me of something very important:

Ruach HaKodesh (Holy Spirit) really does lead us in all the details of life.

Sometimes we think the voice of God only shows up in dramatic moments or major decisions. But often His leadership looks much quieter than that.

Sometimes it looks like: a gentle inward knowing, a picture that catches your attention, peace in your spirit, a hidden road, a peaceful room, or two tiny mountain kittens waiting in the exact place He led you all along.

The more we walk with Him, the more we begin to recognize His fingerprints everywhere.

Because He truly is near. He truly does guide His children. And He cares far more about the details of our lives and His creation than we often realize.

“My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me.” — John 10:27 AMP

Maybe the invitation is simply this:

Slow down enough to notice.

The peace. The nudges. The quiet leadings. The hidden confirmations along the road.

You may discover the Shepherd has been guiding you all along.

Shabbat Shalom,

Beth & Daniel