The Great Escape

Monday, February 8, 2010
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John 10:27 – My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. (NASB)

The alarm woke me at 6:35 a.m. I punched the button and sat up. Something was missing. My husband, Tom, lay snoring beside me, but Pixie, my short-haired tabby, wasn't curled up next to me. Her sister, Feathers, the long-haired likeness of Pixie, wasn't stretched out at my feet.

I dragged myself out of bed and plodded to the kitchen to feed them. Neither cat ran to the cupboard. Even the dry food clinking into their bowls didn't bring them running.

"Where are they?" I asked.

"They're around here somewhere," Tom muffled into his pillow.

I searched the house, from room to room, calling their names. No response. The room where Tom was working on renovations had been a point of curiosity for them. I turned on the light and found a five-by-five-inch square opening in the wood floor.


Snort… "What?"

"Could you come here, please?" The calmness of my voice surprised me.

He stumbled, half asleep, into the workroom. "What's wrong?"

I pointed to the opening. "Where does this lead?" He groaned. Fuzzy slippers on my feet, I was out the back door, pulling my robe around me, before Tom could put on his pants.

"Feathers!" I called. "Pixie!"

A tiny "mew" squeaked back to me from the neighbour's driveway behind our house. Pixie rounded the decorative fence and ran toward me, passing without stopping. She turned and ran past me again. The third time, I dropped to one knee, holding my hand out to her. She came to me, and I scooped her up to take her inside.

I set her down in the kitchen, and then spied the opening in the workroom. Oops! Hunger overcame her temptation to escape again. She ran to her plate, which gave me the break I needed to cover her escape hatch with the form-fitted block of wood.

Now, to find her elusive sister? Outside again in the dark, the beam from Tom's flashlight came around the side yard. He had searched the perimeter of the house. "There she is," he said in a cautious whisper.

Her fluffy tail poked out from under a piece of discarded drywall. "Come here, Feathers," I called.

She approached me with a kittenish mew, but backed away. Again, I dropped to one knee and held out my hand to her. She scampered to me, allowing me to pick her up and carry her into the safety of our home.

My cats know my voice, and usually come to me when I call. But outside, in their fear of unfamiliar surroundings, they were too skittish to obey. Only when I lowered myself to their level did they respond, allowing me to give them the safety and comfort they needed.

Our heavenly Father lowered Himself to our level — in the form of Jesus Christ, being fully God and perfectly human — to reach us. We stray from Him at times, but we know His voice, and when He calls us back, we take His hand to the safety and comfort only He can offer.

Prayer: Gracious Father, we praise You and give thanks for Your wondrous love. You are there with an outstretched hand and enveloping comfort even when we stray. Help us to remember to listen for our Saviour's voice in our time of need. In Christ's precious name, we pray. Amen.

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Janet Rockey <>
Tampa, Florida, USA

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