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Warning: What follows may not be acceptable to sensitive readers. But that’s life.

When you are the caretaker of more than one cat, you remain in a constant state of new motherhood — that is, you have to deal with certain “outputs” on a regular basis. To put it bluntly, there’s a lot of crap involved. And urine. And vomit. Today has been one of those days. Our three elderly felines have left behind them a rash of “land mines” that I am obliged to clean up. Honestly, they were less trouble when they were kittens.

But that’s the way life goes. Unless you are so wealthy as to be insulated entirely from humanity, you probably deal with chores that you don’t care much for. There is a beautiful little children’s book in which a school janitor explains to a child why she cleans toilets by hand: It is to force herself to become used to saying small “yeses” in preparation for the “big yes” that will come at the end of her life. I often think about this character as I scoop and sanitize. By forcing myself to deal with what my cats can’t control, I get experience in dealing with what I can’t control. And that’s humbling.

We’ve had a front row seat this week to the devastation of things we can’t control, like wildfires on the west coast and hurricanes down south. It’s brutal and ugly and heartbreaking. Thousands of people are being forced to say “yes” to things they aren’t ready for. Will it make them better people? Maybe not.

But it is a reminder that we are not the authors of our own lives. We don’t get to write our own endings. Every day we must deal with a certain level of…crap. Some days more than others.

How do we get through it? For me, it all comes down to a higher power. I can’t imagine how people face catastrophes without faith. I’m not sure I could get up in the morning without it. The “faith tape” in my head goes like this: You may not understand it, you may not be happy about it, you may be struck low, but there is always someone with you who longs to make it better. And that is enough to keep me going.

The best part of my faith life? Sharing it with others. Maybe you can’t quite get to the “yes” just yet. That’s okay. I can help. Lots of people can. We are, after all, God’s hands and feet on earth. You are allowed to let someone else help with your problems once in a while. You have only to ask.

Got too much crap in your life? Take a deep breath and remember Jesus’ “big yes” on our behalf. Or give me a call. I’ve got experience with crap.

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Since we lost our cat Bella two weeks ago, the house seems empty. The irony is, we still have three cats. They are elderly, quiet, less active than they used to be. They are also the last three of a “pride” that once numbered eleven. Going from 11 to three is a dramatic decline. We feel like empty nesters.

Two feelings have arisen in me simultaneously: A desire to adopt more cats plus an equal desire to never adopt again. It is difficult for me to not want to help every stray and needy animal that’s out there. On the other hand, every time we lose one, it hurts dreadfully. I don’t want to hurt again, even though I know I will as three becomes two becomes one becomes zero. Each of our adoptees filled a special space in my heart. They taught me about patience, nurturing, joy and love. As they leave the earth, they take that piece of me with them.

I’ve had to analyze why it is I want to reopen what’s left of my heart to another animal. I think it’s because it’s easier to love animals than to love people. Cats appreciate the smallest luxuries, especially after a life on the streets: a warm bed, plentiful food, a clean box. But people? They’re complicated. Jealous. They come with baggage. It’s harder to please them. It’s harder to show them love. There’s no guarantee that they’ll purr in response to your efforts.

I clearly have a lot of love to give or I wouldn’t have adopted so many animals in my lifetime. What makes it so difficult to transfer that loving from animals to people? Maybe it’s because I understand cats. I can communicate with them. People, not so much, even though we do share a species, language and culture. You’d think it would be the other way round.

And it brings up the following question: Why can’t we accept the simplest acts of love from one another? Why do we look into every gesture, every word, for subtext, motive, hidden agendas? Probably because we’ve been hurt by those things before. If we could give and receive love as easily and freely as animals do, we’d probably be a lot better off. If all it took to restore someone’s good mood was a scratch behind the ears, I’d be doing a lot more scratching. And those good moods would be creating a mountain of good will.

So don’t be put off if some lonely looking woman comes up to you and offers you a sardine or rub under the chin. It’s just me, looking for connections in a simpler, stranger language. Take it as a compliment. Or hand me a kitten. Either way, I’m good.

5lrxnlhfzoy-paul-greenIt’s been said that public speaking is easier if you picture your audience naked. (Oh my! How did Hugh Jackman get into the audience? Crikey! 🙂 Or for the younger crowd, perhaps Ryan Gosling. Hey Girl.)

Writing a story recently, I wasn’t sure if it was a drama with comedic notes or a comedy with dramatic underpinnings. I couldn’t quite place my audience.

I decided it was a lot like life: a comedy with dramatic under…pants. The key is keeping it light and not airing the dirty laundry.

Everybody’s dealing with something just under the surface.

In times like these, it’s more important than ever to focus on the good things in life. I like to picture my audience smiling. That’s why most of my posts are about accentuating the positive.

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I like to grab that hook of hope and hang my hat on it. For me, it’s laughter. Finding the funny in everyday things.

That maniacal look in my cat’s eyes as he rolls on the rug as if he finally tracked down his mortal enemy. “Bathroom rug… at last we meet. In a dark corner at the crack of dawn. Prepare to meet thy doom!”

 

20170102_203052The Lyft driver who thought he was going to make my day when he gave me a free sample of…. wrinkle cream! Derived from snails, yet. Some in my sensible shoes might have been offended when given an old lady lotion, but I laughed out loud. “Snails? My word. Well, they’re not at all wrinkly, that’s true. More slimy.”

And for those around you who only seem to complain and kvetch? 

A friend of mine in HR once told me her policy: “If you’re coming to see me just to vent, I’ll give you five minutes. If you want to solve the problem, I’ve got all day.”

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“Commiserate” is a word that tells its own story: let’s come together to share our misery.

What’s the opposite of “commiserate”?

Prayer.

People of faith coming together to request that others be blessed.

It’s like a spiritual standing ovation. Now that’s a story with a happy ending!

20160206_142034-1It’s a lazy Sunday, and I didn’t go anywhere at all today. Kept my pajamas on. Kept my hair in its Bedhead-Blowout configuration. Even kept my “sleep socks” on – the ones so soft and plush that they don’t even fit into shoes. I can only wear them when “lounging.”

Walked into the kitchen because I felt like a sweet snack + a warm cuppa, and – for no reason at all – said to myself, “I am so blessed.” Opened the refrigerator and had to look past all the food to find the specific treat I wanted, and – for no reason at all – said to myself, “I am so blessed.”

Walked into the sunroom, saw the light streaming through the bamboo blinds onto the comfy couch, gazed upon the upside-down, snoozing cat, and – for no reason at all – said to myself, “I am so blessed.”

Walked into the living room, felt the cool air coming from the ducts, looked out at the sweltering summer day, and – for no reason at all – said to myself, “I am so blessed.”

Maybe I did go somewhere, after all – to the place where my heart resides. Luckily, the commute is only a stone’s throw. I just puttered around, watching old movies, knitting, noshing, and feeling blessed.

Had time to gaze at my navel, and didn’t even give myself a hard time about my muffin top!

Had time to wax philosophical, and didn’t even chide myself that the floor needs waxing!

I thought about nothing and everything, like the idea of kin. The people who just get you in life. For me, it’s writing people. Praying people. Knitting people. Kitten people. Kind-hearted folks with a sense of humor and a sense of purpose.

There was nothing happening at all at my house today, but – for some reason – there was nowhere on Earth I would rather have been. I accomplished nothing at all, except a trail of snack wrappers on the counter, a low-level of energy and a high level of contentment.

No, I didn’t go out at all today, and I didn’t miss a thing. Yep, I stayed in today.

Stayed in grace today.

Stayed in faith today.

Stayed in a positive place today.

It’s true what they say, don’t you think? There really is no place like home.

Isn’t it obnoxious when people talk about their kids and pets all the time?

As if theirs are the cutest. When my son is obviously the most wonderful young man ever to walk the planet and my cat is nothing short of a furry phenom! ☺

Okay, I realize I’m always mentioning KitKat in my blog posts, and the things I’ve learned while raising my son, Cole. But I suppose one could say, at least I’m aware of it.

How about all the things people do that they don’t realize are off-putting? For example, I really have a problem with vocal-fry – that thing some do where their words trail off and it sounds like they’re creaking.

The other issue I have is with “up-talk.” That’s when every sentence being spoken goes up at the end? So everything sounds like a question?

Generally speaking, adolescents are the ones engaging in these habits. Maybe that’s why it bothers me. It could be that, with younger people, some trigger in me switches on, and I feel the need to “mother” them – if, by “mother,” I mean “badger” and “bother.”

After all, the older generation engages in plenty of our own bad habits. I used to work with a woman who would finish your sentences for you, and it was exasperating. It would go something like this:

Me: So I need to get this work done by-

IC: Next week?

Me: No. I was going to say by the end of the day. But I also need to-

IC: Go to the meeting?

Me: No. I was going to say make some phone calls.

By the way, IC stands for “Interrupting Co-worker.” Or maybe “Intensely Crazy-making.”

When you think about it, these problems really aren’t such a big deal, in the scheme of things. We live in a world with other people and sometimes we overlap. You might say that it’s just the cost of living. So any time I’m bothered by other peoples’ ways, I crack my knuckles, clink the spoon in my coffee cup repeatedly, and remember that we’re all only human. 

Our Gus died this week. He was a common-looking tabby with uncommonly sweet green eyes, filled with the same uncomplaining gratitude as his mother’s, a stray named Elsa whom we also adopted and lost too soon. But I suppose all death feels too soon; Gus was a senior citizen by kitty standards. Still, we were not prepared for the tumor that quickly overtook his lymph node, growing monstrously in a week, and slowly choking him to death.

Gus was unbelievably kind-natured. He could not sleep alone; he had to be snuggled up against at least one other member of our household, and preferably several. He liked nothing better than to be petted, to bump his striped head against a person, or if necessary, any random soft thing. They say cats are loners. Gussie was proof positive that people say a lot of wrong-headed things about cats.

Although I love autumn — as do so many of us — I find that quite a bit of mourning is associated with this time. So many people I know have lost someone dear to them during these months, and the falling of the leaves, the dying of the light, all remind them of this loss. My friends Alice and Gina lost their mothers in the autumn. I lost my father, as did my friend Maureen.

Some say animals don’t belong in heaven; they have no souls. I cannot countenance such remarks. I think animals know God in a different way than we do, perhaps a more primal way — which is not to say a lesser way. In fact, they may know God more intimately than we can ever hope to. And I cannot believe in a heaven that does not include our pet friends. The day after Gus died, my husband wrote me the following message: “I like to think that when Gus-Gus isn’t teaching “Headbutting With Love” seminars and chasing featherstrings for hours without getting winded, he is snuggled in the middle of the biggest catpile ever.” It helped. But nothing can take away the pain right now. And nothing should. Every life should be mourned, however small, however furry.

Gus taught me that to be loving is a life’s work. And a darned good one, at that. I just hope that his passage was quick and painless, that in an instant, he found himself in that great catpile in the sky. In this season of death, sweet whiskered friend, I pray you found safe passage.

My son and I ordered Chinese food last week, and the fortune cookie read, “That thing you did recently was a big mistake. Now what will you do?!?”

I realized later the big mistake was ordering the chow mein. Ba-dum-bum!

The horoscope for my sign yesterday said, “Well, you may as well just pull up the covers and stay in bed today! Nothing’s going to work out as planned!”

The only bad thing that happened was that my local farm market had closed down. Bad luck for them, I think, but for me? No Jersey tomatoes today. Whatever will I do?!?

So much of life is about screening out the static in your day. Somebody is always griping about something. It seems that the ones yelling the loudest get the most attention. And often, there’s an “expert” around to tell you how you should be living, eating, dressing…even thinking.

An article the other day told me that my cat probably doesn’t really love me after all. I also read another post that said it’s uncommon for cats to snore. Oh, my stars. Studies have shown, so what’re you gonna do? Guess I’ll have to take their word for it! Feh.

It’s fine to take in information from all sources, but never discount the depth of your own experience. For example, I know for a fact that some cats snore. In fact, my cat snores so much – and in so many different “tones”, if you will – that his full name is KitKat J. Snorington. Because his “thing” is snoring. A ton.

KitKat snores at the drop of a hat. Eyes open, at times. Mouth open, often. He snores in a singsong tone, or with a guttural growl. Once, I thought someone was talking to me. I actually walked around the room to see what the heck was going on, until I realized my cat was talk-snoring, like a person. Must be a multi-tasker, because he was sleep-running at the same time.

So let the experts write their articles and tell you what they’ve learned. But form your own opinions about how to live. Before long, the pointless punditry may have to find another way to earn a living. PS Today, you will receive an unexpected windfall, you’ll have a good hair day, and we recommend the Moo-Shu.

1I will praise the Lord no matter what happens. I will constantly speak of his glories and grace. I will boast of all his kindness to me. Let all who are discouraged take heart. Let us praise the Lord together and exalt his name.

Psalm 34:1-3 (The Living Bible)

When my son was younger, I’d sit with him and his friends in our sunroom and we’d chat about whatever was on their minds. Sometimes, it seemed as if this was the only time in their lives an adult had ever asked them, “So how are you doing, son?”

Once, during “Sunroom Time,” one of my son’s friends plopped down on the couch and started flailing a long, sharp stick around. “Honey, put that down. You might hit your brother by mistake,” I said. Problem was, as someone with ADHD, he really wasn’t able to stop. His brother, sitting next to him, grabbed his hand and held it down. Even while restrained, the stick was madly moving around, making “whooshing” sounds.

“Wait, let him go,” I told his brother. “He’s not being heard. He’s speaking through the stick.” For some reason, it seemed that his body was telling him it was urgent to do this, and that he must not stop. I told him to aim it away from the others, which he did. Eventually, the flailing subsided and he was able to calm down.

Communication comes in many different forms. Earlier this year, my cat woke up one day unable to “meow.” He’d open his mouth and no sound would come out. His furry face looked so sad. After a visit to the vet, his voice was restored. That night, at 3 AM, when KitKat “meowed” to wake me up so we could play the Stealth NinjaCat Game (barrel roll into bathtub, dash down hall, slide under rocking chair and zoom up onto bed), I wondered if I’d made the right decision to give him back his voice!

People also speak without words. Waking my son in the morning, I am greeted with a fair dose of “side-eye,” as if his body is communicating: This is madness! You’re trying to wake me up?!? It’s summer, for Pete’s sake! Have you lost your mind, woman?

This picture of Warren Harding’s mistress and their “love child” says more than the entire article. I can only imagine she had a hard life and never really felt the “love” as a child.

Sometimes words can say too much. This neighbors’ dispute over barking dogs lead to an obnoxious sign. I was amazed to read that the couple hoped that writing disparaging remarks on a posted sign would make their neighbor apologize – even though he appears to have done nothing wrong. That sign doesn’t communicate, it exacerbates.

Often, words are merely ill-chosen. When I read this headline on Yahoo News, I was certain that an announcer had been shot during a football game, but it was just a very poor choice of words.

It seems like the Tower of Babel in the world today, with everyone talking a different language, and many with forked tongue. Not everyone has the best intentions when they speak, but here are some words you can count on: God said it. We believe it. That settles it!

 

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Suddenly in the middle of the kitchen, there was a speedbump. I hadn’t put it there, mind you; it was in the shape of a perfectly life-like feline, sitting serenely as I prepared my coffee. It was my cat, looking at me, waiting for some scrap of sustenance in a dog-eat-dog world!

I hadn’t expected KitKat to be there, and was really startled.

“Oh!” I said. KitKat’s mouth formed an “O” as well.

My eyes got wide. KitKat’s eyes opened to maximum capacity. Like two big moon pies.

I pulled my head back in reflex. KitKat’s ears went all flat. Like Napoleon’s hat.

Then it occurred to me. He was reacting to my energy.

“Oh, it’s only you,” I said, nodding reassuringly, and went back to preparing my coffee. KitKat went back to his normal, Trying to Give a Heck facial setting, and moseyed over to his bowl to scout the offerings. Later, he’d stretch across the couch by the window, scoping out upstart squirrels and tracking the flight patterns of rogue birds. You know, his day job.

So much of life is about energy, isn’t it?

Last month, I tried to put a bell on KitKat so I wouldn’t be surprised by his sudden cameo appearances, but the ringing drove him crazy. Not just his ears, but his whole energy flattened. He ran around the house low to the ground, tail tucked, trying to escape the infernal noise.

You can see – and feel – energy interactions everywhere you go.

Once at a drug store, the pharmacist had apparently gotten into a heated argument with a customer. My son and I were joking around as we walked down the aisle, into this moment of friction. The customer turned his head abruptly and glared, thinking that we were laughing at him. He realized that we were just talking to each other and turned back to shoot daggers with his eyes at the pharmacist.

Energy is also malleable. At times, even fluid.

Last week, I got a package in the mail. KitKat sat nearby, on his default setting: bored/nothing-to-see-here-keep-it-moving. I tossed the box aside and in a flash, KitKat had climbed in and curled up contentedly, forming a furry ball. This is the life! his energy said, as he settled in, purring, for a nice afternoon nap. To some, it might seem like a standard-issue box. But if you read the energy meter right, you’ll see it’s really a cat-condo filled with creature comforts. Not bad for a former street-cat!

2015-02-09 16.02.32My formerly-stray cat has gotten a lot more comfortable being a member of our household, but no matter how many times I say to KitKat, “Fetch the ball!” he’s just going to look at me, both bemused and bored.

It’s like his face is saying, I’m not a dog. Cats don’t “do” fetch

We sit. We stretch. We curl. We mew. We groom.  We purr.

But no. We do not. Fetch.

No matter how many times you tell a cat to be a dog, he’s still going to be your furry feline friend.

KitKat does things his own way – for example, he doesn’t like to be picked up, and since I have neuropathy in my hands and tend to drop him, have only tried a few times. It…um… didn’t go well. I’m glad that shining moment wasn’t posted on YouTube!

And, no matter how many times you say to my hands, “Feel things! Don’t be numb anymore!” Yeah, I’m still going to drop the kitty.

So many things affect the way you receive the world.

As someone with MS, I can tell you, it affects the way I process information (slowly, and often not for long), the way sensory input is absorbed (if there’s too much going on, I can’t take any of it in), and the way I interact with others (if I’m really feeling the pain that day, I’m much more subdued.)

There are also the odd physical sensations that can be frustrating. Once, it felt as if I had a piece of tape stuck to the bottom of my foot (I didn’t.). Yesterday, it felt as if there was a rock in my shoe (there wasn’t).

You can say, “Don’t feel that way! There’s not a rock in your shoe. It’s all mind over matter!” But still, this is how I feel.

So imagine how other conditions might affect the way a person receives the world. Asperger’s, social anxiety, depression, etc. Or even someone with an introverted personality. There doesn’t have to be an official label for someone to be dealing with things you might not understand.

No matter how many times you tell a person, “Don’t be affected by this stress! Just grit your teeth and power through!” It doesn’t help them. “Be like everybody else,” is what you’re really saying. But the fact of the matter is, these are individuals, created by God to be exactly who they are.

So even if you can’t see it on the surface, rest assured, everybody’s dealing with something. If you assume they deserve compassion for what they’re going through, it might give someone hope during a hard time. A little comfort and encouragement can go a long way. And it doesn’t cost a thing.

Now, do you think KitKat might want to go out and catch a Frisbie? 🙂

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