Baxter has a weak spot. All cats do. Well, maybe it is better termed a “sensitive area.” It’s the belly. Most cats will not expose their bellies to scratches and petting. I thought the reason was that it was too much of a “dog thing," and after all, they are not dogs. But I learned that biologically cats’ bellies are very sensitive for them, and they protect them aggressively.
Baxter was that way for a while but soon he changed. As I told you in a previous column, when I come home after a few hours away, he comes to the door, falls on the floor in front of me and rolls over to have his belly gently scratched. He waits for me to respond, and he starts to purr and purr when I do. It has become the normal greeting ritual we use to say, “Hello, I’m back home. I missed you.” After a half minute or so of that, he jumps up and runs either to his dish for a treat or to the spigot for a drink, depending upon his fancy. Life quickly resumes its normal routine.
Sometimes we need to show our soft underside to each other as well. The work-a-day world is fast-paced, aggressive, hard-nosed and demanding. We have to be alert and on guard to keep up with the competition and make a success of our lives. We show our strengths, and we try to hide our weaknesses for fear that someone will find them out and take advantage of us. We want to look good, speak properly, act professionally and impress those who can help us to get ahead. “You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours.” We work out deals to our advantage, or at least, to our mutual benefit. We trade our strengths to win.
So is it any wonder we often don’t feel at home with each other and our world? Home is a safe place where we don’t have to worry about gaining advantage or getting ahead. When we feel at home with each other, we’re not worried about showing our soft under belly. We trust each other not to take advantage of our vulnerabilities, but to draw close around them as the glue that bonds us as family and friends. Home is where we can be our complete selves—intelligent, strong and competent, but also sensitive, weak and caring. We are accepted for all of it and loved because of it.
God makes a home for each of us this way. He wants us to use and develop our talents and gifts, but He also loves us in our weakness and sin. He knows we are not perfect, and it is precisely here that He shows His deepest love. As Paul writes, “while we were still sinners Christ died for us.” To open ourselves to God’s love and to love each other in God, we have to grow in our trust enough to admit and share our weaknesses and vulnerabilities, not to justify them, but to heal and save them.
Nothing in my estimation is as smoothing as a cat’s purr. It communicates a sense of well-being and peace that is deep and satisfying. Purrs happen when someone discovers how to touch gently the cat’s sensitive spots. A light scratch on Baxter’s belly and his purr tells me I’m home again. In a different but similar way, our patient understanding can help each other to feel God’s light touch on our vulnerable spots and know His healing presence. Then, instead of purring, maybe we can begin to feel at home again with each other.
