When I get up earlier than Rachel, as I have this morning, I shut doors between the end of the house where she is sleeping and the end of the house where Wesley (our cat) and I are up and around.
Wesley doesn’t like this. He complains.
So, in a long tradition of anthropomorphizing, I try to reason with Wesley. I explain to him that it’s ok, that he and I can hang out, he has food and water and several of his favorite spots. He still complains.
As he was standing at one of the doors to the hallway, pawing, I realized a very important difference between Wesley’s being stuck at this end of the house and mine.
The difference being, of course, that it was my decision to shut the doors and thus limit our access.
I don’t like other people making those kinds of decisions for me much more than Wesley does.
I’ve blogged recently about control here. This time, I am pondering control and our need of it in terms of Matthew 6: 25-30
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? 26Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? 27And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? 28And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, 29yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. 30But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?
Why does not being in control bother us so much when, if we stop and think about it, there is really not all that much we are, in fact, control of?
May you live this day comfortably out of control.