On Vulnerability & Cats

Who knows a person’s thoughts except their own spirit within them? In the same way no one knows the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God.

—1 Corinthians 2:11

We like the idea of vulnerability, but it’s harder to do than we think it will be. I’m learning to create the space for it, and then wait, like you’re waiting for a cat to come out from behind the couch, sort of acting like you don’t even care, but you really do.

For our small group, there’s something about a messy table, crumpled napkins, me puttering around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets, making tea and slicing cake. If I suspect that sneaky old cat is going to wander out any second, I get up from the table and bang around in the kitchen a little—I can still hear because it’s only like five feet away, but it breaks that pressure-y spell and the words start coming out.

Doing anything shoulder-to-shoulder helps. My darling brother is a motorcycle guy, and there’s not enough money in the world that could make him, say, go to coffee with one of the other motorcycle shop guys and stare at each other over a latte. But in the shop, shoulder to shoulder, tinkering and fixing, the truth comes sliding out, like a stubborn, beautiful cat.