Behind Closed Doors

     Five days ago, on the night of the Fourth of July, my cat was sitting in front of the French doors in our living room, gazing longingly out through its doors at the sky.
    He was meowing--and I'm not talking about the cute little "mews" that kittens pine or the silky "meows" that young cats coo. I mean the deep, throaty, low-pitched "mrows" that adult cats apparently like to yowl over and over again early in the morning or in the middle of an otherwise peaceful afternoon--pretty much whenever they want something.
    On that particular night, our cat wanted out. He is a major predator, and by being indoors he was missing out on important prowling time. Not to mention hours he could be spending defending his backyard territory from the other neighborhood cats. He was very indignant about being imprisoned indoors, and so he staged a protest of repetitive, insistent mrowing.
    Of course, we didn't let the cat go outside because it was the Fourth of July. There were at least a dozen bad things that could happen to him, like getting hit by stray sparks from a firework, or being hit by a bicyclist or a car. We were keeping the cat inside for his own safety--not that he realized it.
    I think that's kind of how it is when God closes doors to us in life. He does everything for our safety and welfare, so when He doesn't let us do something, it's because He knows it'll hurt us. Sometimes, we might not see the danger in something God closes a door to--it might be something we really want, something that looks like a boatload of fun. But if God's not letting it happen, it's because He loves us deeply and wants to protect us.
    I think it's really a comfort to know He'll keep us safe like that. Don't you agree?