Cowering in Fear

Don’t let her fool you. 

Annie is not a sweet cat. 

By all outward appearances, she appears sweet. 

She’s pretty and fluffy and soft and plump.

She even has moments where she’s very loving and 

Requests attention.

But in her nature is an attack cat.

I think her early days as a single, street mom were all about survival 

And I don’t think that three years of being the queen of the household has taken that out of her. 

 

On Sunday morning, I heard a skirmish. 

I knew it was the cats. 

Then I heard a bang. 

I knew that one of them had knocked something down.

I fell back asleep. 

When I got up, I noticed that the laundry basket was lying on the floor in the bathroom.

I remembered the earlier noises

At the same moment that I noticed a tail sticking out from behind the bathroom door.

Sigma was hiding behind the bathroom door, 

Cowering in fear.

 

I put the pieces together. 

Annie had chased Sigma upstairs. 

Sigma had tried to climb the laundry basket to get away from his attacker. 

The laundry basket had fallen and scared both cats. 

Sigma hid behind the bathroom door while Annie nonchalantly went and sat at the top of the stairs, 

Taking her place of authority 

And viewing her queendom. 

 

Feeling more secure with me in the room,

Sigma came out from behind the door and explored the bathroom.

A few moments later, I picked him up and carried him past Annie

So that he could be free from Annie’s jail.

 

I think sometimes we assume that people are nice, or doing okay,

Because outward appearances show us as much.

But, like Annie, insides are scarred by wounds,

Or simply a nature,

We just don’t see…

Until they say explode,

Fall apart,

Say something mean,

Or attack,

Literally or figuratively,

And leave us wondering what just happened.

 

I don’t want to be someone who doubts the authenticity of everyone and everything I see,

But I also don’t want to be someone who forgets that people and situations aren’t always as they appear.

 

I want to be someone who sees people for all of who they are—

Even when it’s hard—

And who knows how to respond to what I see.  

 

Sometimes with a love that stays—

Like my love for Annie.

Sometimes with a love that walks away.

Sometimes with a love that reports to DSS or CPS.

Sometimes with a love that fights back.

Sometimes with a love that goes to therapy.

Sometimes with a love that prays.

Sometimes with a love that harbors the refugee.

Sometimes with a love that sets one free,

Like I did with Sigma.

Sometimes with a love that chooses to put disbelief aside

And allows uncomfortable reality to settle in and

Grief to begin.

Sometimes with a love that simply cries.

 

Oh God: Give us the wisdom and discernment to know and love others for all of who they are…even if there are parts unseen…especially if there are parts unseen. Amen.