Most days I am pretty tired. Work absorbs the lion's share of my energy, then friends, then errands and projects. Sometimes I drag myself to yoga or up and down a few hills for the sake of my circulation. By the time I trudge through the door at night, I am spent. My cat doesn't care that I am a wimp. She doesn't care if I am grumpy or sad or caustic. She simply wants to be near me, pressed against my side or curled up by my calves. Her small body is a balm. When I am grieving the human condition or over-complicating my circumstances yet again, her simple affection reminds me of the triumph of goodness and the rest that is available in my Father's presence. One little animal scampering around the house helps quiet my mind--a strange goo-goo gift.
1 comment:
the cat's meow
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