Deep night could be a very lonely place for someone with insomnia. Not so much as a cricket chirping, and stillness so complete it’s almost tangible. Hours stretch and lengthen, making dawn seem a question, not a certainty. For me, . no light at all, no scents to give life to the air I breathe. But then . . .
She arrives on velvet paws, moving so quietly her tags don’t even jingle. She crosses along the back of the sofa where she’s been napping, over the endtable, and stops at the edge of my recliner. Raising up on hind legs, Stretching out one front paw to gently touch my shoulder, almost as if asking, “Are you busy?”
She positions herself, so that we are literally heart to heart, and if I could see her, she’d be looking into my eyes. She looks for a long time, and I wonder what her cat’s mind is thinking. Purring gently and continuously into my face, she seems almost to be saying, “I’m here. I’m here. I’m happy. Because of you!” The “you” is punctuated by a fuzzy head with a dainty cat face pressing into my shoulder over and over.
I am petting what feels like a fluffy white cloud drifting across a summer sky, the “drifting” because of her purring. But it’s as if she is “petting” me too, dragging her paws over my hands with claws sheathed so all I feel is softness. She is gingerly sniffing my fingers, my hand, my wrist, and the sound of it is cute, it sounds like curiosity! Her tail never stops moving, even when she’s perfectly content. There is no need for words from me, only peace, only serenity. She is doing what she does best, giving love, and bringing it out of others.
When I am feeling good, she’ll come running, trill-meowing, and launching herself at me, demanding loved. But my “precious one” has known from kittenhood, the times when I am not feeling well. She senses it on some level. Then she is quiet, then she is still, and the love she gives is gentler. I don’t have to be really sick or upset, she knows even when I’m just feeling “seizurey” for lack of a better word. (Sometimes if I don’t sleep well, the next day I’ll feel as if I COULD have a seizure, not actually having one. It’s hard to explain. I don’t feel awful . . . I just . . don’t feel my best, and Chanel just knows.
If you think it ridiculous that I would consider buying her a $200 cat tree, it is for certain you have never sat with me on long and silent nights like this one. There is no price for what she gives, it is unconditional, and it’s free. That’s how I know she was sent to me by a loving God. So in a strange and circular kind of way, every time I trace the delicate whiskers, or touch ears that are so soft they remind me of pointy little meringues, it’s almost like a reminder from the Lord, telling me I’m not alone, NEVER alone. The Lord will always remind you of that, whether people are around or not, if you listen. For you, he might use a sunrise, or a birdsong, or a sweet memory, or a sudden solution to a problem you’ve been pondering. The only sure thing is that if you’re willing to look, He’ll show you something!
So on this night which has now turned to a Sunday morning, I am grateful for a God who can reach me, no matter what my sleep issues are. And I am grateful for a beautiful white cat, who is revving up to play with her toys, even as I’m finally growing sleepy.
God can reach you wherever you are, no matter your circumstances, and He’ll use anything to bring you a blessing if you’re willing to see. Have a blessed Sunday!