Things change. Back from a ten day trip, I spent the morning picking up the water bowl, the food bowl, cleaning out the litter pan, putting the towels and sheet used for bedding in the laundry, uncovering the furniture in her “sick” room. Then I sat alone at my writing table thinking about all the times that sitting there would have guaranteed a cat in my lap within a couple minutes. I will miss her and she was a good cat.
She came to us as a kitten, found alone by one of my daughters in a city parking lot. She was very young, very scared and spent the first week hiding under my daughter’s bed. We weren’t sure if she would make it. What a way to start. I think her memory of that contributed to her quietness, her timidity, her reclusive nature. She grew to tolerate other cats but was never one to initiate friendship or cuddle up to any of them. She grew to trust some people and be affectionate but that trust had to be earned. The sound of strangers in the house always made her disappear. She would come out from her hiding place when things got quiet again.
her magnificent green eyes and a pretty white bib
When my daughter moved away to school she left Grey Kitty with me, which was fine since I had grown fond of her. I had inherited another cat from my second daughter and it would have been nice if they had gotten along but they didn’t. They fought like, well, like cats. They had both grown up being “only cats” and didn’t want to share their humans. We had to keep them separated or there were consequences of loud cat growls and tufts of fur everywhere. Once when we were away they were accidentally shut in the same room. We found them sitting quietly in opposite corners pretending nothing had happened, but the room told a different story, way different. I thought they might have gotten it out of their system and become friends, but no.
Grey Kitty was hesitant about all kinds of things. There was the usual cat maneuver of standing in front of an open door, debating whether or not to go through. She had the nervous tail tic. It drove me crazy and I would sometimes pick her up and make the decision for her. But most of the time, in deference to our friendship, I just waited until she either bolted out or sauntered in the other direction. I think my willingness to let her be who she was made her like me as much as she did.
She had patience with me as well, Many times she would come up on my lap and get settled for a good sleep and minutes later I would have to get up to answer the phone. She had patience in the kitchen. She knew the sound of pans rattling and cans opening and would appear at mealtime. After circling my feet for several minutes in an attempt to get my attention (trip me) she would sit quietly and look at me with her best stare. The stare would continue right up through the meal until the husband would relent and give her a small bite of people food.
One day, years ago, I thought I had accidentally killed her. She was in the garage when I closed the door automatically and turned my back to go into the house. For some reason she waited until the last second to try leaving and got caught under the door. When I looked again I could only see the back half of her and the door was down. She evidently had been crouching low and hadn’t triggered the safety beam. I slapped the control and ran to get her but she ran out faster than I could get there. I was pretty worried about her but decided if she could move that fast she probably didn’t have a broken neck. She was always a little leery of the garage door after that.
As she grew older, she began to be a very picky eater. Dry cat food was not good enough. Canned cat food was better, but only certain kinds. She started losing weight, and her breath smelled awful. Tests at the vet’s office showed kidney disease, so we tried various brands of special food. She didn’t like any of them. Finally, to keep her from starving I let her eat anything she would eat. She was pitiful, and her soft meow changed into a more raucous sound that was disturbing and insistent. I think she had nausea.
This story ends as you might suspect by now. I took GK to my daughter the veterinarian and she and I, compassionately and with tears, euthanized her and laid her to rest. She served a purpose in my life, as I believe animals were meant to do. These awesome creatures that God made to share the earth with us make us think, make us love, make us give of ourselves and make us aware that we are not alone.
Now it’s a bit simpler at home – I don’t have to shut the doors to prevent cat fights, I don’t have to search for obscure brands of special food, I don’t have to clean up sick messes. Simpler, but not necessarily better. I’m just sayin’, she was a good cat and I miss her.
P.S. This is not to be interpreted as a request for another cat.
What? Who did this? To those of you reading who are not also bloggers, I will explain. One of the latest updates to WordPress, my blog host, includes a cute little “beep, beep, boop” message wiggling around in the center of a blank screen for a few seconds after certain commands are instituted. It’s a thing to look at while you’re waiting. Evidently someone thought that us bloggers would lose interest and wander off if we didn’t have something new to look at for three seconds while our post is being published. I’d like to meet the originator of this idea and try to figure them out. I’m always amazed at the things people will think to do. Actually, sometimes I’m also amazed at the things people don’t think to do – the old rule, never say never, applies equally to never say always. Both good things to remember.
This last week, every time I sat down at the computer I lost interest and wandered off. One day I didn’t even turn the thing on. But that’s ok. A week of inactivity online doesn’t bother me much and gives me the opportunity to write about what I have been into while I haven’t been writing.
– Equate extra strength Headache Relief, for the headache that doesn’t seem to want to quit. Although I’m probably not doing my stomach any favors, I’m grateful for the four or five hours of relief and super wakefulness that I get from swallowing a couple pills.
Hello headache, my old friend…
– Intraocular injections (shot in the eyeball), for the eye problem that was dramatically improved, in the doctor’s own words. I’m grateful that it’s working and that I don’t have to get another one for five weeks, although I am getting used to everything about them (except the cost…)
the back of my eye
– Childcare, for several of my yòoung friends who I realize I’ve been missing. How come you guys can grow up in what seems like no time at all? Gracie, Lydia, Josh, Zeke, Shiloh – grateful for time spent with you that makes me feel younger even while I marvel at you getting older. I’m troubled by the fact that I’ve never played X-box. Is that weird?
Childcare for her, adult care for me…
– Old letters and old files, for the urge to purge and to organize. Lots of stuff has been burned or shredded, but lots else has been rediscovered and readied for the next project, memoir writing. I’ve always been alarmed by my lack of memory for details of the past. Not only did I forget all those details, but I forgot that I’d written them down in letters to others. This morning, reading letters written to my mother ten years ago, all I could think was “Really, I did that?” and “Did some other person’s life sneak into my letters?” Grateful for the written record of the past.
I’m more prolific than I remembered.
– Appliance shopping, because the washer and dryer that have wanted to leave my house for years, finally broke free. Grateful that within hours of starting to shop for replacements I came across a used set that is probableyten years younger. After only one session with the furniture dolly, the truck, the hoses, wrenches and plumbing tape, they are installed in my laundry room and functioning almost correctly. The printed message under the temp dial that says “all rinses are cold only” really means they are scalding hot only. I think I know how we can fix that.
the Laundry twins, Hi and Dri
– Air travel websites, for the supposed improvement of doing it yourself. Instead of calling a knowledgeable person and telling them when and where I want to travel I can now spend hours online hunting for the best connection at the best price. And American Express Delta Frequent Flyer card, how dare you revoke the companion ticket feature without telling me. Planning my revenge…
Did. Not. Happen.
– the garden that was, the heat that is, that yard that will be. Grateful for the healing work that takes place in me when I’m outdoors. Grateful for green things, if they’re plants – not, if they’re worms.
Good greenBad green
– Face time, with friends and family who care. I am realizing that the purpose and value of life is all in the relationships I find and nurture. Realizing also that God is that friend and that family member who makes it all possible. Having less work away from home has given me more time to nurture the relationship with him and I am so grateful for that. Gives me some precious times of discovery, comfort, peace and excitement. Arlette and I took a lovely walk yesterday and talked of all these things.
Nature walk with my friends Arlette and God.
My friend Arlette (and maybe God too, on her left)
I’ve had a bent toward independence most of my life and kind of wrestled with the question of whether I had ever had a mentor. I had my mom – she was always my first “go to” person, but being mom was her job, a position all its own. There were a lot of other people I knew and I spent a lot of time thinking about their experiences. I did that in order to avoid their pitfalls. It seemed like a good idea not to learn firsthand what I could learn vicariously. But a mentor?
So I was a bit surprised when I did think of someone. I thought of Elaine and immediately knew why she came to mind.
It wasn’t because she had any kind of corrective role in my life. I don’t think she ever pointed out specifics about my child rearing or my work habits. She didn’t tell me to keep house better or spend more time with the kids. What she did do was make time for evenings playing cards with the husbands, and invite us to watch fireworks over the golf course from her nearby yard. She had tea parties with my young girls and met me for breakfast after my night shifts at the hospital. We went to a crazy restaurant where they had beaver on the menu and laughed while she tried it (she tried it). She loved people and was always telling me about the interesting ones she met. She wanted to be better at helping them and studied to be part of the Stephen ministry at her church. And the thing that fed my soul the most, she always acted like she enjoyed our times together.
Part of the attraction for me was the difference in our ages and stages of life. Elaine was already married to my cousin and living in her first home when I was a young teen. She hosted me and several of my same age cousins at a family wedding, putting up with our late night antics and endless harmonizing to “Moon River”. She was beautiful, but not arrogant. Years later when I was married, working, mothering and struggling to keep it all together, she was still beautiful and gracious in a way that time and experience had only magnified. She was honest about the parts of life that weren’t perfect, but didn’t dwell on them. She gave me the message that those imperfections didn’t have to define one’s life, that they offered opportunities for growth and satisfaction.
We moved away. For a couple of years I only saw Elaine when we came back to the hometown on vacation. I worried when she was diagnosed with leukemia, but she went through chemo, bought herself a wig and carried on as she always had. It was a shock when her disease took a turn for the worse. Within days she was gone. I did not get to say goodbye.
I did not fully realize how much I loved her until she was gone. Knowing her was a singular experience. I can’t think of anyone else who gave of herself and spent time with me in quite the same way, noticing the highs and lows of my life and responding with encouragement and love. And that, simply, was it. She loved.
This is not a post from a sweet, gray haired, “got it all figured out” Christian lady . I am just a person who sometimes lies awake at night wondering about life and who I am and why I’m here.
This is a week where a family member has died. It’s a week when a child has asked me “do you think it would be okay to have fun and not be sad?” I have come to a conclusion. It is not a crime to be happy. The world is full of terrible things, even so, it is more of a crime to be sad than to be happy. We were made to be happy. That is good news.
All the terrible things in the world didn’t come about by chance. They were not put here for us by an uncaring God either. We chose those things ourselves, most of them, and others came because we chose to hang out with a bad gang bent on destruction. Those terrible things, all of them, came when we didn’t believe what we were told about how to be happy.
It is somewhere deep in our being to think, and then say “NO, I do it myself!” Why is it so hard for us to believe that we are not the smartest, most reasonable, most capable, most invincible beings ever? Why is that so hard? Why do we act like a two year old child when we are told what will be best for us? Why does it take us fifty, sixty, seventy, ninety years to realize that we are not in control and that our days are going to run out. Those days go by faster and faster, begging us to look the issue straight on, to decide whether we will let ourselves acknowledge our parent who knows more than we do, our creator, and call him God.
I am not a preacher or a missionary. Sometimes I wish I were a missionary and could go to some land where life is very difficult, much more basic and simple. People there do not need to be convinced that there is a God. Most of the time they just need to be told and they recognize it as what they’ve been longing to hear and know. I live in a land where people think too much about some things and too little about other more important things – but there is a lot of thinking going on. Thinking like that young child, which is pretty much “what do I want now?”
This whole question of what’s going on with life can be learned by studying that parent – child relationship. It’s all there. I’ve had kids. I know. I’m not talking about all the bad variations of it that we have managed to come up with. A true parent longs for the child from the moment it is conceived in the mind, becomes more in love with it as it develops, protects it, delights in seeing it progress, grow and assume unique qualities. A true parent is concerned with the lifelong happiness of the child and has a better picture of how that is to be achieved than does the child. The toddler sincerely thinks he is capable, because he knows what he wants now. He does not know what he will want later – he has to be told that and don’t expect him to understand. Really, you can’t even tell him.
Don’t try.
Can you see how we are kind of like toddlers all our lives? We try one thing that we want after another, trying to feel big and important and smart and we will do it ourselves. We are not able to understand. We will test. We will insist. A good parent knows this will happen and plans for it. A good parent would die to keep their child safe and bring them through those tests. I am not a perfect parent but I feel that way about my kids. I think God feels that way about me.
I live in a world that is crazy with design and beauty, full of things meant to be good, meant to produce growth. I’m like that baby that grows up in the home provided by the parents – it’s child-proofed and I’m surrounded by toys to amuse and educate me. I’m watched over, cared for. Could I possibly think I put all that in place myself ? More and more, I know that I did not do it myself.
I lie awake at night thinking about this. Why does this even make sense to me? Why doesn’t it make sense to everyone – that’s what I wonder. Am I missing something?
It’s as if someone left the lid off the crazy bottle lately and little demons are spilling out all over. Evidently I completely missed a life or death battle next door last night. True, the person who related the story to me is a bit given to drama – if he was really being chased around the yard by an angry woman with a shovel, would I not have seen that? Sigh. We have two adjoining houses in the oneacrewoods. We’ve rented out the second house ever since my parents stopped coming down in the winter. I would say that probably 75% of the renters have been people we enjoyed having next door. The other 25% have given us some bizarre stories to tell. I have come to understand that this is all part of being a landlord and no matter how careful one tries to be, situations change, things happen. The ideal appearing applicant is still a human being with life problems and things can go crazy down the road. I wonder if the message I see in all the recent events is that it’s time to make life a little less complicated. Simplification can be a beautiful, freeing thing and I might be ready for some of that. What am I going to want to put up with in five years? ten years? or, for instance, when I’m 90? This week I went to visit the 90 year old lady, living by herself, who needed some help dealing with her security company (read about it here) . We were able to solve that problem without too much trouble, but I became aware of other problems that come with age and limited mobility. After we cleared a place off at the table where months of mail was stacked, our conversation turned to how she hadn’t eaten much that day and wished she had a complete food for herself like she did for her dog. Some sort of pelletized people food would be ideal. She still drives her truck to the store for milk but she admitted that it was getting a little scary. And yet she hesitated at my offer of help. Her mind knows she is not taking good care of herself but her body makes it hard for her to do any better. We are all getting older and we need to watch out for each other and help each other when we can. I’m just saying, who do you know who needs some looking after? Food for thought.
I have no control, not really. I may make appointments and think I know where I’m going to be, but it’s never really the case. It’s such a true saying “wherever I go, there I am” and that’s about all I can count on. It’s okay. It relieves me of a lot of responsibility. I didn’t even get upset last night when the post I’d spent a couple hours thinking through and writing down disappeared when I inadvertently moved my hand in front of the touch screen. I guess WordPress doesn’t have automatic update/save. That’s the way things are.
Today I am put in charge of a situation to solve for someone else, if I can. I have total compassion for people who by some strength of body and mind have managed to live to be old, like over 90, and still are taking care of themselves. But things get difficult and maybe it’s hard to remember how you used to take care of difficulties with contracts and bills and harassing phone calls. So you are happy to let someone help you. I was volunteered for this job.
My friend C. who is younger, only a year or so past 80, has taken to looking after a neighbor, the above mentioned person. A while back she fell in the driveway on her way to the mailbox and couldn’t get up. Someone noticed and came to her aid. Later when C. was with her he suggested she get some kind of device she could use to summon help. She had one – it was in the house, when she was in the driveway. He found out she was a bit disturbed with a bill she had gotten from the security company. She had an experience with a rather sharp tongued customer service rep when she called to ask about it. She didn’t understand and C. couldn’t explain it to her but he told her Shirley would take care of it, not to worry. Right.
After half a dozen calls I finally get to someone who might have info on this account and, as usual, I have to have a password or they won’t address the issue with me. That’s the way things are. What are the chances our 90 year old friend will remember a password she chose three months ago? I don’t remember passwords I chose last week.
It’s a strange day outside. It is bright and sunny except for the three or four times (about every hour) when a cloud has coasted overhead and dumped torrential rain for 10 minutes or so. We are in Florida and that also is just the way things are.
Today I will think of all the spent hours of your life that translated into food for my body, clothing to cover me and as much security as you knew how to create. Today I will consider that you started out as a teenage man with little instruction in family life, except that you grew up in a family yourself. I will think about the times you changed your path and the uncertainty you must have felt as you searched for a better way to provide. I will think about why you would fall asleep in your chair at the end of all those long days – not from laziness or drunkenness or escapism, but because you were physically exhausted.
I will realize that as a human you probably experienced sadness, frustration, anger (oh yeah), despair and doubt and yet you never bothered us children with any of it. We had little knowledge of your struggles because you were a man and we were self absorbed children. You taught us how to work alongside of you, but you always worked harder and longer. And yet I can remember that you sang in the barn, and whistled and tried to yodel. You modeled that it was possible, and desirable to enjoy work. You gave me the idea that sometimes when trouble seems overwhelming the best thing to do is just go out and work at something. Sometimes the trouble loses interest and goes away unfulfilled. And at any rate, working is better than worrying.
As you’ve grown older with so many limitations ganging up on you, your persistence to do what you can inspires me (and scares me, but, hey… how can a nearly blind man on a rider mower cause any trouble?) I see you teaching lessons of humility (when Mom is right and you are wrong), lessons of love (when you rub Mom’s feet and wash the dishes), lessons of trust (when you put those unsolvable things in God’s hands). And you still whistle now and then and have Pandora playing on your cell phone, announcing your presence as you go. I honor you for all of that.
Today I will grieve that as a society we have almost lost the concept of honoring our fathers for anything. Temptations are everywhere, expectations are high, psychology focuses on faults and there is nothing that cannot be blamed on a father. I will remember how hard it is to be the head of anything, particularly a family. I will be thankful for you – that you have not run away, that you are my dad, my father.
I was only two steps ahead of a giant lizard who had gained entry into the dorm and was sucking up hapless students as they tried to figure out what was going on. That one had Jurassic Park written all over it.
Last night I dreamed. I probably dream every night but I rarely remember any of them. For some odd reason I remember two dreams from last night. I willed the Jurassic Park one to go away and not come back. It worked and I slept again. But the second dream was different and I hung on to it in wonder.
We, myself, my two girls and my mother, were in a large medical building waiting to be called for appointments. My youngest was only about three and I was carrying her. I was feeling kind of like a mother who has been denied custody of her children and is suddenly reunited. I asked if she wanted to get down and run around but she said no and we hugged closer and smiled at each other. We sat down since the wait was interminable, but we were still content. My oldest daughter leaning against my knee and the youngest snuggled close on the chair beside me. It was the most pleasurable situation and I remarked “this is the way it should be”.
The strangeness of the dream is that we do not have a broken home and I have never been denied custody. My children are grown and live far enough away that I do not see them often but they have moved on in very natural ways. I wanted them to grow up and have lives of their own. They have done that successfully.
It was like a little gift – to have that time back again so vividly – when arms were wrapped around my neck and a small head rested on my shoulder. I’m just sayin’ that I would like a regular subscription to that dream.
– The husband started things out by taking me to Miller’s Dutch Family Restaurant. We went on Saturday night because Miller’s is always closed on Sunday, so we thought. We were greeted by signs everywhere that they were now open 7 days a week. Wonder what brought about this change? But we stayed.
– Went to the evening service of Exalt Church, which was fortunate because it was the only social celebrating of the M.D. occasion the whole weekend. Received a beautiful rose and there were tasty desserts. I was pretty full of Miller’s strawberry pie but managed to put down a piece of chocolate cake, a sacrificial act, to be polite of course.
– Talked on phone with the eldest daughter who was agonizing over our inability as a family to make much of holidays. Evidently I don’t make people feel guilty enough when they forget when the holiday is, therefore they develop the habit of forgetting. This daughter calls several times a week and we talk a lot so I have no trouble forgiving her for not driving for four hours and appearing on my doorstep. I tell her not to feel guilty. We perpetuate our habit of not keeping holidays.
– I try to send my email Mother’s Day greeting to my mother. Called her earlier to apologize for not mailing the card I bought her on time for her to get it. She doesn’t make me feel guilty… hmm, something familiar about this scenario. Computer is being really difficult and won’t let me send so I go to bed.
– Sunday morning and the computer has healed. I send the letter to my mom.
– The husband has met up with a virus overnight (he didn’t catch a cold, it caught him). He doesn’t want to be coughing and hacking all over people at church so I go alone. Received nice Mother’s Day hugs from several friends. Oddly enough, no mention in the service about it being Mother’s Day (or was I just not listening?)
– Made a call to a young mother and had a good chat.
– Received a long email from youngest daughter yesterday but also today, a picture via text of the card she bought me. This gives me great idea because theoretically, one would not even have to buy the card – just take phone camera to the card shop and click away. Clever.
– Another text greeting from a “not quite, but almost like a son” young man in California. Came with a virtual hug.
– For fun, I relax by catching up on all 5 types of solitaire challenges for month of May until I am hallucinating and feeling weird. I see a 6 and immediately think 7, numbers are coming at me from all directions. I go to kitchen for my favorite, Cozy Shack rice pudding.
There are still several hours of this holiday left and who can guess what wonders await me. Feeling happy and blessed.
I Just Have to Say... 