You may call my cat shy, timid, anxious.

I say Monica is elusive, self-effacing, introverted.

Regardless, as soon as someone come to the door – UPS, FedEx, my Mom – Monica sprints to one of two places: behind the couch in our home office or under the dresser in the master bedroom.

Recently, I was meeting with someone in our office at home. Like clockwork, as soon as the doorbell rang, Monica ran into our bedroom. The meeting lasted only an hour. Afterward, about 7:30pm, hubby turned to me to ask if I had fed the cat. Nope. Totally forgot.

In turn, I asked him the same question.  Ditto.

Opening the fridge I put the wet food into a glass bowl then into the microwave for 10 seconds. I counted down out loud.

Monica contributes to this nightly ritual by running into the kitchen and putting her paws up on the cabinet. She watches her bowl through the tinted window until the timer goes off.

She’s never missed an entrance… until now.

I began to call her.

“Monnn–iii–caaaa!”
No answer.

Check the bedroom.
Not there.

Under the sofa and chairs.
Nada.

In the closets.
Nope.

Basement.
No.

Hubby headed back into our bedroom and said, “I wonder if she could have gotten into the air ducts?”

😱😱😱
“WHY WOULD YOU EVEN THINK THAT?!”

Oh, yeah. My bad.

I had just finished painting the bedroom but didn’t have time to attach the socket or light-switch plates. The cover to the cold air return was resting on our bed… which left a kitten-sized hole in our wall.

Laying on the floor, as close to the opening of the wall as possible, I desperately called her name over and over.

Hubby started to call into the air ducts from the basement. Still no answer.

Because he was confident this was the only place she could have gone, hubby began removing the other air duct covers to give her other exit routes just in case she couldn’t get back to our bedroom.

“No worries,” he said. “She’ll find her way out.”

And then he said the unthinkable: “Remove the front of the furnace, just in case.”

“WAIT! WHAT??!  WHY??!”

“You never know if she’ll head down that way,” he offered.

I ran down to the basement and yanked the covers off the furnace. Horrific visions sped through my mind. Pushing those thoughts aside, I checked the area that was uncovered and found there was no way for her to gain access to the furnace flames from the air ducts.

Relieved, I closed it up then went back to our bedroom and began calling to Monica from the opening.

I sang all the little songs to her that I did when we first got her.

“Baby Mine”, from Dumbo.
“Kindle My Heart”, from the Little Princess.
“Skye Boat”, from Outlander (Don’t judge me. I just like the song.)

No response.

Then, I wondered if I could actually see her under our bedroom. With my cell phone, I took a photo using the flash. Nothing but wood frame and metal. She wasn’t under our bedroom floor, at least from what I could see.

Having been around cats all his life, hubby assured me that if she was in the duct work Monica would come out when ready. She was just having fun exploring; it was a system that went throughout the house with all sorts of twists and turns.  And, with the covers off in the other rooms she could easily find her way back out.

My fear was that she would become so captivated with this new underground network, we’d never get her back. Silly and unrealistic, I know.  She would eventually come up for food.

After some investigation I realized that the opening in our bedroom was actually the entrance in the middle of a longer duct line that not only went under our bedroom but also extended in the other direction under our living room. I dangled my phone once again down into the opening, this time facing the other direction. Click.

Seeing those little beady eyes I shouted, “My baby!”

And then…

“Stupid cat.”

Now that I knew where Monica was I could relax watch TV with the hubby.

Eventually she did come out; missing a few tufts of fur and a small scar on her ear from the rough wood framing. We quickly replaced all of the duct covers and I cuddled with her for the rest of the night, afraid to let her go.

I believe we cause God similar stress.

The network of ‘ducts’ in our lives lure us into places we were not meant to explore. We can become twisted around, backed into corners, stopped by a dead-ends, and tempted in directions which take us deeper into the abyss.

Like a Prodigal Son we find ourselves far from the safety of home and the security of being surrounded by those who love us. We take this all for granted as the devil continually tempts us with endless, seductive possibilities once entering the open ductwork.

The spiritual reality is that we were the ones who took those covers off in the first place. Some sinful action opened the way into the network. Before we know it, we’re lost in the labyrinth. And if we’re not careful we could end up in that fiery furnace.

Thankfully, we have a Father Who patiently calls us by name, over and over and over. (And unlike me, would never refer to us as ‘stupid’.)

If, by God’s grace, we are able to hear our name called, we can follow that Sacred voice back to safety. Yet, another reason mental prayer is so important; it gives you practice hearing God’s voice and discerning it from the evil one.

Some of us will emerge just a little dusty, others with parts of us lost to the harsh and unforgiving maze. But, as soon as we’re out the Lord picks us up, dusts us off, and holds us closely.

That is, until the enticing echoes and open ductwork tempt us once again to wander back in.

I imagine Monica is waiting for me to paint another bedroom, hoping for an adventure. Knowing that I’m the one controlling the entrances to the duct work – and conscious of my own vices, temptations, sinful tendencies – I’ll need to ensure that all avenues to the underground network are properly sealed so that neither of us wanders off.

The fiery furnace is not one we could escape.

Please pray for me as I pray for you!