Smokey is getting old. His gray fur has lost its luster, and he carries himself stiffly. When it’s cold, damp, and dark outside, he looks longingly at the warm glow of light surrounding the windows of the man’s comfortable home. Sometimes the man or his wife will open the door a crack and let him slip inside to lie on the rug near the stove. How he enjoys soaking the warmth into his tired old bones. This is so much better than sleeping with the other cats in the garage.  

But often the man refuses to open the door for Smokey. “You stay outside with Drover and Moses,” he says firmly. This is hard for Smokey to accept. Even in the wind and cold rain, he stands outside rubbing his paws on the door and practicing his most pitiful meow. All the while, his fur is getting wetter and his bones are getting colder, but maybe, just maybe, the man will change his mind and let him in. Smokey could spare himself much misery if he would just accept the man’s decision and go find a warm, dry bed in a corner of the garage.   

How often do we, like Smokey, remain standing out in the rain and cold before the doors God has closed, pleading and hoping God will change His mind about something we want? How much more secure and comfortable we would be if we would cheerfully accept His will, knowing He would never withhold any blessing from us.  

Prince of Peace, control my will; 
Bid this struggling heart be still.
—Mary A. S. Barber 

From Paws on My Porch, by Gary Miller
© 2015 TGS International, PO Box 355, Berlin, Ohio 44610
Used by permission