Holding the Leashes

We have a kitty.

I’ve been in denial about turning into a cat person. But the boys have me convinced. Okay, it’s not the boys, it’s Tiger. That’s his name. The orange tabby that has entered our lives and alienated our cat-allergic friends forever.

The cat follows us around like a dog. Really, it does. It followed us as we went Christmas caroling around the town of Branson. It follows Brock and I as we go out to feed the chickens. (Talk about a beautiful chorus - 6 hens, 2 guineas, and a rooster all hollering together at a cat outside their pen - loud glorious music) It even wants to follow me as I go feed our two cat-eating huskies.

The icing on the cake was today. I was on my way out of the dog pen with both dogs harnessed up and ready for a well-deserved walk. Tiger was on the sidewalk right in front of us. 2 feet away. 24 inches from two sets of young hungry jaws. Tiger didn’t even flinch. He arched his back a bit, but he never flinched. I had to kick dirt at him so he would get out of our way.

Why didn’t he flinch? How could he stare death in the face (in their faces) and not flinch?

I was holding the leashes. Tiger knew me. I take care of him. I hold him. I rescue him from the boys as they chase him around the house. He knew that I would never let go of those leashes. He knew he was safe.

God has the leashes on the “dogs” that scare us. What are your scary dogs? Do they have lotsa sharp teeth? Are there more than one? God has the leash. He never lets go. Sure we may arch our backs once in a while, but we do have the clarity of mind to remember that God has the leash and that we can look fear in the eye and not flinch?

We can if we want to. Jesus died for us. His Spirit lives in us. God has all the leashes.