I agreed to house-sit for a month during one of the busiest stretches of my life.

When they handed me two typed pages, which included instructions for caring for their shy Scandinavian Forest cat, I remember thinking, ‘Can I actually keep this cat alive?’ 

My mind was already overflowing with responsibilities, information, and the quiet pressure of trying to hold everything together.

Daisy was timid at first. But by the second day she was circling my legs, purring, drooling, making biscuits, and somehow emotionally adopting both me and my husband during one of our more stressful seasons.

There were afternoons when she curled into my lap while I wrestled with overwhelming tech problems for my business. On another evening, after my husband came home from an especially difficult work week, she climbed onto him and simply rested her paw at the center of his chest.

Neither of us could explain it.

She just seemed to know.

One day I looked at her and realized our hearts had become connected in the same soft, tender way I experience when I feel deeply connected to my own soul. I never imagined a cat could open that door in me.

That realization stayed with me.

If it feels this healing to receive such uncomplicated affection from a little cat, what might become possible if we learned to offer that same kind of gentleness to ourselves?

To our own body.

To the parts of us that have spent so long trying to earn love instead of simply receiving it.

Funny enough, Daisy reminded me what that relationship actually feels like.

I thought I was there to care for her. But somewhere along the way, she quietly reminded me what it feels like to be cared for.

I wonder if our bodies have been waiting for that same kind of relationship all along.