The rains quickly filled the street gutters still clogged with winter debris.
I was peering through the rains to see if I’d raised the car window when I realized that Miss Kitty was somewhere out in the storm.
Thus, the neighbors were treated to the sounds of a middle aged man warbling “kitty, kitty, kitty”, and making other odd sounds that his cat understands, but people probably don’t.
She answered back.
She had scurried under the truck when the hail started, but now the clogged gutters were sending a stream closer and closer to the dry spot she had found refuge in.
I called for her to come to me, and she called back and informed me that she was not going anywhere and I was an idiot for suggesting otherwise.
She wanted help…she wanted rescued.
I would have to go get her.
And get soaked.
It’s my job.
It’s what I do.
I got pretty well drenched in the thirty feet or so to the truck.
I knelt down to her and she jumped on me with all four paws exposing four sets of claws that she securely sunk into any available flesh.
She tucked her head under my arm and we sloshed back into the house.
I let her go to place her on her bed, but the claws remained secured in me.
She wasn’t letting go.
Not until she knew for sure she was safe…and then not until she had been comforted from her ordeal.
Sometimes, the storms come suddenly.
Sometimes, they are the voice of God calling us to Himself.
Sometimes, all we can give as an answer is a cry for rescue.
When He comes, (and He will) don’t let go.
You need comforted after the storm.
It’s His job.
It’s what He does.
Make your own application…