Paul and I were on vacation last week. Because Leon (the cat) had fractured his foot two weeks before so we decided to take him with us camping. This meant the whole family (Paul, me, Seamus and Leon) were camping together. Leon in the early part of the week was still getting used to his soft "cast" and hobbled around. At the end of the week he was still hobbling but was keeping a secret. He really could maneuver on all four legs and was really pretty much back to normal.
On Wednesday late morning, Paul had just arrived after a morning out sitting in a tree. Seamus the senile and slow dog wanted to go out. That is when the unthinkable happened. I opened up the door for Seamus and before I knew it Leon was running fast out the door headed for the thick woods. Now Leon is Paul's baby and well truth be told Seamus is mine. I felt really bad and began praying that we could find the cat and I could redeem myself.
After much searching on Paul and another friend's part, they found Leon under an abandoned shack. (I had already packed to go home figuring if the cat wasn't found I would not be welcomed.) I went to the back of the shack, sat down in the mud and softly began to call Leon's name out. After several minutes, I saw a black face emerge from under the shack and the cat slowly walked up to me. Needless to say, I grabbed him real tight and within the hour he was headed back home to spend the remaining rest of the week alone.
In reflecting on this drama this past week, a thought kept popping up in my mind. Often I think the Lord is like I was in patiently waiting on my "lost/escaped" cat. He softly (and sometime loudly) calls us to come to him. It is often because we ignore that voice that we become scared like the cat not knowing what will transpire being alone.
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