Fuzzy the cat is sound asleep in his favorite sunny spot on a dining room chair. When he’s awake, this chair is his look-out point, enabling him to spot neighborhood beasts that dare invade his territory.
At times we have altercations, mostly about food, because he insists on meowing for fresh chow, even when his bowl is full. He is pretty good about holding his ground and wearing me down to get his way.
Still, there are lessons to be learned from this cat, who can practice total surrender, especially when he falls into a blissful sleep on my lap, marked with occasional sighs and whisker twitchings.
He is a trusting soul who expects his food at certain times and knows that his mistress will dutifully throw his toy mice around, so he can enjoy stalking them.
He doesn’t worry about the future, wondering whether I’ll take care of him tomorrow. He doesn’t try to plan six months ahead, but instead lives entirely in the present moment.
This is a hard lesson for humans, since we often overlook the beauty of now, while we worry about tomorrow.
Even on vacation, we may fret as a beach trip draws to a close, and become so engrossed in planning our next getaway that we miss a dolphin dancing through the sea.
There are many forms of prayer, said British spiritual writer and mystic Caryll Houselander in “This War Is the Passion,” which was published during the height of World War II.
Among them is surrendering to God’s presence in the here and now: “There should be, even in the busiest day, a few moments when we can close our eyes and let God possess us.”
This prayer of surrender, steeped in silence and joy, doesn’t require words, just relaxing and entrusting ourselves to God.
“He is always present, always giving us life, always round us and in us, like the air we breathe.”
Houselander had a tabby cat, Jones, that she sometimes considered her spiritual director. This fellow would become quite anxious when he was outside and encountered a particularly unpleasant black cat.
Jones would gaze at his mistress through the window with a fearful expression, but once she let him inside, he curled up on her lap in complete trust and fell asleep.
When we are anxious like the cat, she noted, the prayer of total surrender to God will help us.
Houselander knew anxiety firsthand, having lived through the terrors and heartbreak of the bombings in London during the war. When the sirens went off, her teeth would chatter and she’d lose her voice.
Still, by trusting in God, she mastered her fears and even volunteered for dangerous tasks, such as watching for fires from the rooftops.
It’s hard to fathom the anxiety of people scanning the skies for planes that may wreak destruction and death on their families.
Still, in our country, even during peaceful times, many suffer from an epidemic of worrying, partly caused by the doomsday cries of people on social media and ugly battles between politicians.
Let’s not forget the grueling commute to work, troublesome teenagers and piles of bills, which are a recipe for anxiety.
We can find peace each day by finding a serene spot, where there’s no phone, no TV, no social media and no tweets, except for the ones emanating from the birds.
We can breathe deeply and surrender ourselves to God, knowing he has everything under control. It’s true that we’re not promised tomorrow, but let’s not squander the joyful moments we have today.
Above all, we can imitate the cat by basking in God’s peace and trusting that, no matter what happens, he will care for us.
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