My husband Jerry stepped into the kitchen one evening as I poured chili into two bowls. Our cat Pewter, a Russian blue, sat on the doormat just outside the kitchen door.
As I set the bowls on the table, I saw a flurry of motion through the kitchen window. A large black dog ran onto the mat where Pewter sat. Pewter shrieked and bolted so fast I saw only a gray streak pursued by the gangly black dog.
Thinking Pewter had run around the house, I dashed to the front door, hoping to intercept her. No flurry. No barking. No Pewter. No black dog.
I walked around the house and met Jerry coming the opposite direction. Nowhere in our large yard did we see or hear dog or cat.
We’d never seen the black dog before. Now both he and our cat had vanished.
Then, Jerry spotted Pewter. She cowered high in the bend of a slender birch tree. The tree stood in an untamed grove of trees behind our neighbor’s fence.
Crossing our yard, we stepped through undergrowth and ducked under branches to get to the tree. Pewter sat high above our heads. Her eyes wide and black, she meowed a melancholy meow.
Jerry lamented our failure to teach Pewter how to come down from a tree. “Cats have to learn to come down the same way they went up,” he said. He told Pewter, “Back down the tree.” Pewter sat unmoved.
“Should we get the ladder?” I asked. “No.” said Jerry. “When she gets hungry enough, she’ll come down.”
We walked back to the house. As we stepped into the kitchen, Jerry said, “Maybe. It’s going to get dark soon.”
Leaving our now-cold chili, we retrieved the tall folding ladder from the garage, unfolded it, carried it across the yard and through the undergrowth and leaned it against the tree where Pewter sat. I held the ladder while Jerry began to climb it. The ladder wobbled precariously. The bottom prongs were firmly planted in soft ground, but the tree was so slender, the top prongs encountered only air.
Jerry asked me to get a bungee cord. I set off through the thicket and across the yard and soon returned with the requested item. Jerry wrapped the bungee cord around the tree and secured the ends to the ladder’s top rung.
Pewter watched with wide, black eyes and occasional melancholy meows. She showed no sign of recognizing us, no sign of trusting us enough to allow us to rescue her.
Speaking gently, Jerry climbed to the ladder’s top step. He reached up and stroked Pewter. Then, gently, slowly, he reached to pick her up. I stood, holding the ladder. We knew our cat might run farther up the tree. She might lash out at Jerry, causing him to lose his balance.
Uttering only a faint protest, Pewter let Jerry pick her up and carry her down . . .
One day, you may cower, moaning, in a place you don’t know how to get out of. I’m not sure whether God uses bungee cords. But I am sure of this: He’s gone to great lengths to help you. He says to you, “I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.”
You decide whether you will lash out, run or let him carry you to safety.
. . . . . . .
Isaiah 46:4 TNIV
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