Shadow sleeps. A lot.
I’ve heard lions sleep 20 out of 24 hours a day. I suspect my feline owner is out to meet or beat that average. Of course, she has her active moments. Sometimes a burst of kittenish energy sends her racing around the house or attacking a catnip-filled toy. Most often, though, she limits her activity to trips to her food and water bowls or the litter box. And she sleeps.
She sleeps on my bed when I’m napping. She sleeps in patches of sun that pool inside windows. She sleeps beside the heater vent on winter days. She sleeps on the back of the couch or curled up in a pile of laundry. She sleeps.
It’s amazing when you consider her naturally neurotic temperament. She’s actually quite restful. She never worries about whether her food or water will be waiting for her. If it happens that they’re not--I have to clean the bowls some time--she doesn’t panic. She simply turns, fixes me with a disappointed glare and asks, “Well?” Even if the answers to her needs aren’t obvious, she knows those needs will be met. All she has to do is ask.
I often envy Shadow’s sublime acceptance of my provision for her. Sure, she has some trust issues regarding other humans, other animals and the great outdoors. Yet she knows I’ll never fail her in the most basic of ways.
I wish I could trust my Master the way she trusts me. It’s often difficult, though, to trust in the midst of life’s pressures and daily needs. How will I pay my mortgage this month? Where will I find the money for this medical bill? My daughter has outgrown her clothes; how can I afford more? Nor do I think I’m alone in my moments of panic over those needs and desires that sometimes swamp me. It seems my catly companion has a better grasp than I do of the words in Luke 12 (also found in Matthew 6).
“Then Jesus said to his disciples: ‘Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothes. Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds! Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life? Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest? Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you--you of little faith!’” (Luke 12:22-28 NIV)
That doesn’t mean we don’t have to work to make ends meet. Shadow has it good. Feral cats have to hunt and scrounge for food. Ravens search for prey. Flowers and grasses work in their own fashion to convert sunlight, moisture and carbon dioxide into the nutrients they need. When we’ve done all we can, though, and those ends still haven’t met…what then? Jesus tells us, right in Matthew 6.
“Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him. Pray then in this way: Our Father in heaven….Give us this day our daily bread” (Matthew 6:8-9a, 11 NRSV).
After that, it’s a matter of trust. Ask, and trust that God will come through. He will. It may not always be in the way we expect, or even in the way we think we want. Still, God comes through. He really is willing and ready to meet all our needs, our daily bread and then some. Often, though, we get too wrapped up in our own worries and stresses to let go and let God.
That’s when we need to take Shadow’s approach. Ask. Do what we can and know God will do all.
Then take a nap in the sun.
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