IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT

Several nights ago Daisy came meowing into my bedroom, waking me from a sound sleep. Thinking she was merely out of food I turned over in bed and began to drift back to sleep. A few minutes later she meowed again, and I realized she needed something, wanted me to get up and would probably persist until I did just that. I turned over and looked at the clock – 1:45 AM. (Sigh) I didn’t want her to wake up Keith, so I decided to get up and see what was bothering my little kitty.

Throwing on my robe and slippers I went out to where her food dishes were in the kitchen and saw right away what the problem was: she’d eaten most of her food and had gotten sick, not just once but in two places. If I didn’t clean it up, Keith might accidently “find” it when he headed to the kitchen in the dark, when he got up at 4:00AM. (Sigh)

And so I began one of the less-than-pleasant tasks of pet ownership.

As I worked Daisy continued to meow while looking outside, indicating she was in a bit of distress. I knew this because I know my quiet kitty and that each sound she makes is for a reason. In similar situations in the past Daisy has found relief by going outside and eating grass, but that just wasn’t gonna happen at 2:00AM! So when I’d finished cleaning, I picked her up, cradled her in my arms and began combing her in an attempt to soothe her distress. Then I took her back to her food to see if she would eat something.

She definitely wanted to eat, but something just didn’t feel right. So she asked again, meowing with pleading eyes, to go outside and eat grass. (Sigh)

I’d already explained to her several times that that just was NOT going to happen. I told her all of the reasons why I didn’t want to go outside at that time of night, but I was really just talking to myself. Daisy didn’t care and wasn’t phased by anything I said, because cats don’t always understand “human”. She just kept looking at me with those sweet eyes, and with little “mews” kept asking the one person she trusted for help. (Big sigh)

And as we sat there on the floor together, I finally looked at her and said, “I can’t believe I’m going to do this!” I stood up, turned off the burglar alarm, grabbed a flashlight and scooped Daisy up in my arms. Opening the back door, stepping out into the cold and darkness, Daisy and I went down the back steps and headed out to find the Bermuda grass that always seems to settle her stomach.

(You’re probably thinking to yourself, “Really? Are you kidding me? Who in their right mind would do such a thing?”  Yah, I get that.)

Stepping into the garden I could hear a mockingbird singing in a tree nearby. How very peaceful it all seemed to be. Still, I shined my flashlight to the right and left, making sure I wasn’t disturbing any raccoons, skunks or other varmints that might be foraging in the same areas to which Daisy and I were heading.

In the darkness it was difficult to find what we were looking for. In the daylight it’s very easy to see those skinny blades of green grass peaking through the leaves of other plants. But we weren’t in the garden in the light of day; we were there in the dead of night. So we moved on to a place where a big patch of that grass grows in abundance, Daisy nestled safely in my arms.

And then I heard it…and felt in the depths of my heart a fear that I’d never felt before: a pack of coyotes howling loudly, fiercely, the sound coming from barely a block away.

“In the dead of night” had never before sounded like such an appropriate term!

Suddenly, I realized the foolishness of my choice…going outside…alone…at 2AM…with a small kitty in my arms!

“What was I thinking!” I asked aloud.

Had I thought it through at all? Daisy would be a tasty treat for a coyote…but who was I against a hungry pack that was intent on destruction? If they saw or caught a whiff of us they might attack us before we could get to the safety of the house!

Making sure Daisy was secure in my arms I reached down, grabbed a handful of grass, then turned and ran as fast as my slippered feet could take us, up the safest path to our back door. Slamming the door behind me, I put Daisy down inside the house; my heart pounding so hard and so fast I didn’t think it would ever let up.

I don’t know if she had been scared at all, but Daisy’s focus remained on that grass. Sitting again on the kitchen floor I held the tender blades in my shaking hand, holding them out for her to chew on. After several minutes she was satisfied and, already feeling better, went to snack on some of her food. It took me quite a long time to feel better, though I immediately began pondering and praying over what that frightening experience might mean…

And here is what the Lord showed me.

I am a pleaser and if I’m ever to fully recover from this dreadful condition I must talk with the Lord, asking for His guidance over every choice I make. This isn’t because He’s legalistically requiring me to do so, but because even on my best days, with my best intentions I am easily deceived, ensnared. Thinking it’s okay to “just” do something, stepping in to “help”, I don’t realize the snares that lie ahead.  I can hear the voice of the mockingbird luring me into believing it’s all good: “How very peaceful it all seem(s) to be.”

This is exactly how I burned out a couple of years ago. I became so busy, distracted, impulsively thinking I was the only one that could help, that I neglected my relationship with my Lord. Oh, I was in the Word, I prayed, I worshiped…but I didn’t guard that time jealously. If a phone call came in, I’d take it. If a text came through, I’d answer it. I didn’t stop to ponder as much, to listen to the Voice of the One I loved, He whom I knew so well. As my to-do list grew, something had to give (after all, there are only 24 hours in a day), so I whittled down my time with the Lord at the start of each day, surrendering an extra 30-45 minutes to the tyranny of the urgent. Even my garden was neglected.  Little by little I gave up ground to a deceitful enemy trying to take me out, to make me ineffective for the kingdom. How very peaceful it all seemed…

Oh, but there’s more.  Because others around me were going through so much more, I even stopped asking for prayer for myself. I didn’t want to be a burden; my pride said I could do it on my own. I can hear the howling coyotes even now, circling for the kill.

The result? I lost the love I’d once had.

Jesus said in Revelation 2: 2 – 4, “I know your works, your toil and your patient endurance, and how you cannot bear with those who are evil, but have tested those who call themselves apostles and are not, and found them to be false. I know you are enduring patiently and bearing up for my name’s sake, and you have not grown weary. But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first.”

My bridegroom was speaking of me. (Huge sigh)

So, for nearly two years I’ve worked hard nurturing that relationship, to right what He showed me had gone wrong. I’m reclaiming for Him places and practices that had become unhealthy, learning again to jealously guard the time I spend with Him. And my times with Jesus are sweet once again. He’s lovingly showing me areas that still need…and may always need…work.  Like being a people-(or kitty-) pleaser.

For the Love of my life I truly must pray over everything…or I might find myself, once again, in the dead of night.