Lessons From My Cat

Each morning I am awakened by my little Ewok look-alike, gray fuzzy girl cat, Babette. Our routine is, get up, feed Babbs, then go to the back porch where she likes to flirt with going outside. I open the door, place a crockery vase in it as a prop, and she sits on the stoop where she can be outside, yet run inside at any moment. She's had her very brave moments where she has faced off the neighbor dog Piper, the black and white neighbor cat who checks the perimeter of the block for vulnerabilities every morning; and, she has explored the garage and a little of the alley. Oh, but when I close the door, this rocks her world a bit. She will seek shelter next to a planter or under a vehicle, and just the call of her name or the sight of me will bring her right back inside, where she'll resume her semi-safe perch on the stoop. Yes, Babette likes her options.

Of course, my back porch is the universal portal for epiphanies, and I realized yesterday as Babette sat watching the world from her safe place that I am my cat. I was reminded of this verse in Song of Solomon:

"Come quickly, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or young deer upon the mountains of spices." (8:14)

God has called me to adventures many times. But instead of stepping out, closing the door behind me, and running with all my might into His arms and His kingdom call, I tend to keep my options open by sitting in my safe place, looking back over my life and all the great past adventures I've been on - and survived.

"I have disrobed. Should I get dressed again? I have washed my feet; should I get them soiled?" (5:3)

I'm learning that faith is adventure. Our culture is recovering from the notion that faith is a component in a formula whose outcome is fact. Faith is a blind trust; a bungie jumping, cliff hanging, sky diving, rollercoaster ride - except we never really know exactly where we land. All we know is that our Savior is leading, and that we are supremely loved.

Adventure awaits outside of our church walls too. (Yes, I'm still on that kick. Although absent, I've been out here working hard to change my language, and as a result - hopefully - my notions and behaviors.) But, we tend to put much of our energy into the space between the walls of our gathering place, instead of the life outside that brief hour and a half bonding time. Do we meet to strengthen eachother and bring glory to God? Is it a family reunion time? Or is it a time to fulfill our perceived obligation to perpetuate the group? Do we work so hard to hang pictures and fluff pillows, that we are building a place where the aboriginal tribes we encounter in our adventures will be unable to come? And do we see our building and programs as the final resting place for them, once they "get it together?" Have we domesticated ourselves and become ineffective to the wild world we live in?

Back to Babette. She's getting braver. Really, I love that she comes home when I call her. But part of me is sad for the primal kitty in her that stalks, chases, and rolls around in the earth. And that part that makes me sad for her challenges me.

"He is not a tame Lion..." C.S. Lewis