Here in the Midwest, tornado alarms are tested on the first Tuesday of the month. The people in our house acknowledge and ignore them: just another test. But the cats don’t shrug it off. Awakened from morning naps, heads turn and ears swivel as they search for the source of the noise. Eyes grow large as the sound continues. They look at me, sitting comfortably and clearly not concerned.
“It’s all right, it’s just a noise, babies,” I reassure them. “Don’t worry, you are safe.”
But they are not sure. It’s pretty loud. It hurts their ears. Can anything that scary really be nothing? Can they be sure I know what I am talking about? And what if it is something after all? Can they trust me? What if I’m wrong? They start to look around for bolt holes: under the bed, in the laundry basket, etc.
But then the siren dies down, and peace once again descends on the neighborhood. The cats resume their nap positions, confident that once again their vigilance triumphed.
I almost hear them thinking, “I guess Mom DID know what it was. This time.”
But then, there’s always next time.
From time to time I hear or see
A thing that really frightens me.
And I begin to doubt that You
Can keep me safe and see me through.
With eyes and ears wide as can be
I plan my own delivery;
But do not notice in the squall
That You aren’t panicking at all.
Lord, give me peace when fears pursue,
My eyes remaining fixed on You.
Teach me to know the truth of this:
When You say, “It’s all right,” it is!