This snapshot narration came to me from someone else:
“That’s [cat’s name] leaning on my elbow. She does this thing that reminds me of [some people]. Sometimes she gets very close to me. And I usually let her lay wherever she wants. I feel her warmth and I hear her purr. Sometimes I try to put my arm around her and pull her closer to me. She only lets me do that for seconds, if that. She gets up, walks around on the bed a little bit until she finds a spot that feels safe to her. Which is literally only an inch further away from the spot I had tried to hold her in. She does this every time I try to pull her closer to me. Every time. She has never just let me hold her while we sleep. And occasionally, she jumps right off the f[*]ing bed and dashes out the f[*]ing door!”
Wonder, with me, how often this might have happened in the life of Yeshua. All who encountered him must have felt a genuine lovingness and authentic tenderness so fierce that their conditioning by the trials of life caused an inner doubt that conflicted with the irrepressible draw to be close to him. He must have experienced so many who touched him, or whom he held, for moments before they settled an inch away because of their doubt that anyone could love that fiercely without some ulterior motives common to our broken natures. O, how saddened he must have felt. How lonely that not every one he wanted to hold close to him could endure that passion. Can you?
Neil D. with K.C., 2020-09-20