My mom came to Vegas to visit me for 2 weeks over the holidays this year. It was LOVELY. We had such fun--my mom and I, that is... not my cats. (I know... there she goes, talking about cats. Just call me Taylor Swift.)
Cosmo and Lockwood... well, they're used to having ME around. Just me. When other people come over, they're really good at running away and hiding. When my mom came to stay with us, the boys were off their game. They hid a lot, and only came out when they wanted food, water, or belly rubs. They eventually got used to That Lady staying with us and became more comfortable interacting with her. She even got Cosmo head-butts on her last day.
But Lockwood... Lockwood is a beast. He's almost 25 pounds of long, black fur. He's huge. And you'd expect a huge beast like this to know that he could eat most things that get in his way. That's not his reality, though. His M.O. is to hide. From everything. We'd come in the door and he'd run back to my bedroom, and scramble under the end of my bed, where the blankets draped over perfectly to form a perfect cat-cave.
One day, as he was trembling in self-induced fear, I looked into the darkness, seeing bright eyes, shining huge and golden, reflecting the bathroom light, hidden safely under the blankets. I rolled my eyes in exasperation. "Dumb cat. Get OUT. You're not SAFE under there. You're MISSING things; you're missing LIFE! If you came out, That Lady would give you belly rubs and catnip, your favorite things in the world!"
Then I stopped... I've certainly jumped off cliffs before in my life--heck, I live in Las Vegas; that move alone was a jump--but am I missing out on God at times because I am hiding, trembling beneath the blankets?
I know there are things I've missed out on, the human equivalent of belly rubs and catnip, because I've been willing to sit at home, despite that feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me to DO X, Y, or Z. You know what I'm talking about. I have a feeling you've felt that feeling, too. Where you're home or somewhere you think is safe, but your stomach starts to get tight and you feel nauseated... knowing that there's something that's a little scary out there, but you'll probably end up a better person (or at least have a lot of fun!) if you do it.
Here's my encouragement for you (in other words, my kick in the pants for myself): Next time you feel that punch in your gut that you should be doing something, I want you to put yourself in my Fat Cat's body, huddled under the bed and blankets, afraid to come out because what is outside just might be worse than the wonders that could be explored and the adventures that could be had, then make the decision to live, to choose the adventure. Don't be a fraidy cat!