Last night, I wrote all about how much I still miss my first cat Lucy. I meant every word of it.

After Lucy crossed the rainbow bridge, part of me wanted to go to the animal shelter and find Lucy II, a carbon copy who would look and act exactly like the first.

I ended up with something in a few ways similar but in most ways the polar opposite. My second cat Peanut could not possibly look any different than Lucy.

Peanut has her own gentle way. In the 2 1/2 years I’ve known this little critter, not once have I heard her growl or hiss or snarl or even meow loudly. She’s the most soft-spoken feline I’ve ever known.

While Lucy was a social butterfly, this little gal’s as shy as they come. She does a lot of hiding when company comes over. She’ll only show herself for a very select few. I wonder if that’s based on some vague memory of some traumatic event from kittenhood (she was a rescue).

I suppose it’s possible to honor and grieve over the memory of Lucy while still cherishing and loving Peanut. After all, Peanut could never be a replacement. More like a compliment.

Who knows what she’ll be like when she gets older? Only time will tell.

Three years ago, we were celebrating your 17th birthday. At least I was celebrating. You were probably off napping someplace.

I had no idea what was to come. I had no clue that in four months, you would be gone. It hardly seems real that in the span of 6 days, you got sick and wasted away before my eyes.

I still miss you. I think about you every day. You weren’t perfect, but you were perfect for me. Your constant companionship, your loyal love, and your quiet presence got me through some hard days. Your soft little snore was a comfort to me in the middle of the night.

You were sometimes grumpy, sometimes feisty, but never dull. I knew you’d be waiting for me when I got home from a long day of work.

I could never replace you, but I got rescued by a little tortie kitten so that all the love I had for you could have someplace to go. She’s grown up into a gentle, laidback cat who loves her some belly rubs.

She’s like you in some ways, but in other ways the total opposite of you. I think you would have grown to like her.

I still visit your final resting place from time to time and talk with you. I never stay very long, but I always tell you that I still love you and still miss you. I always thank you for all the love and how you held on for as long as you could to be with me.

I know part of me thought you’d live forever– or at least until 30, but I can look back with gratitude for 17 wonderful years. I’d go back and do every single day of it again if I could, even those devastating last days.

Thanks again for all the love. You will always be my little baby.

“I don’t think the way you think. 
The way you work isn’t the way I work.” 
God’s Decree.
“For as the sky soars high above earth, 
so the way I work surpasses the way you work, 
and the way I think is beyond the way you think.
Just as rain and snow descend from the skies 
and don’t go back until they’ve watered the earth,
Doing their work of making things grow and blossom, 
producing seed for farmers and food for the hungry,
So will the words that come out of my mouth 
not come back empty-handed.
They’ll do the work I sent them to do, 
they’ll complete the assignment I gave them” (Isaiah 55:8-11).

I’m actually glad God doesn’t think the way I think. I’m thankful that He’s not answerable to me for His actions. I’m glad that I’m not the one who sits over God, making sure He measures up to my standards of what He would or would not do.

In the end, I know God is good. I know that while His ways may at times eclipse my understanding, I know that His heart in all things is 100% trustworthy.

After all, how can the finite mind possibly hope to contain all of the infinite that is in God? How can a being bound by time ever completely know the Eternal?

So in the end I place my trust in God and say, “Your will, not mine, be done.”

“Jesus calls us to recognize that gladness and sadness are never separate, that joy and sorrow really belong together, and that mourning and dancing are part of the same movement. That is why Jesus calls us to be grateful for every moment that we have lived, and to claim our unique journey as God’s way to mold our hearts to greater conformity with God’s own. The cross is the main symbol of our faith, and it invites us to find hope where we see pain, and to reaffirm the resurrection where we see death. The call to be grateful is a call to trust that every moment of our life can be claimed as the way of the cross that leads us to new life” (Henri Nouwen).

Lately, I’ve been reminded that you can’t really appreciate sunshine until you’ve had a few days in a row of grey rainy days.

If you think about it, if we had nothing but sunshine with no rain, we’d be in a desert. Rain may not be everyone’s favorite, but it is what causes life to flourish and grow.

At an airport I overheard a father and daughter in their last moments together. They had announced her plane’s departure and standing near the door, he said to his daughter, “I love you, I wish you enough.” 

She said, “Daddy, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Daddy.” They kissed good-bye and she left. 

He walked over toward the window where I was seated. Standing there I could see he wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on his privacy, but he welcomed me in by asking, “Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it would be forever?” “Yes, I have,” I replied. 

Saying that brought back memories I had of expressing my love and appreciation for all my Dad had done for me. Recognizing that his days were limited, I took the time to tell him face to face how much he meant to me. So I knew what this man was experiencing. 

“Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever good-bye?” I asked. 

“I am old and she lives much too far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is, her next trip back will be for my funeral, ” he said. 

“When you were saying good-bye I heard you say, ‘I wish you enough.’ May I ask what that means?” 

He began to smile. “That’s a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone.” He paused for a moment and looking up as if trying to remember it in detail, he smiled even more. 

“When we said ‘I wish you enough,’ we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with enough good things to sustain them,” he continued and then turning toward me he shared the following as if he were reciting it from memory. 

“I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright. I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more. I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive. I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger. I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting. I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess. I wish enough “Hello’s” to get you through the final “Good-bye.” 
He then began to sob and walked away.

[ Original story by Bob Perks, in Chicken Soup For the Grieving Soul ]

In memory of the late Neil Peart, drummer for the band Rush, I’ve been listening to all of their albums from start to finish.

It’s like a trip down memory lane for me. So many songs stir up so many images and memories for me, especially from high school marching band days when I discovered the group.

I’ve confessed before that not all of my youthful musical tastes were good. I’d probably be embarrassed if I ran across some of the old cassettes I carried around with me on those band trips and vacations.

But Rush was among my better choices. They were musically and lyrically pushing the boundaries of what music could sound like. So many of their songs paint such vivid pictures in my mind.

Recently, their drummer Neil Peart passed away from brain cancer. Thus officially ends an era of my childhood. But the music has and will always live on for many generations to come.

Rock on, Tom Sawyer!

Peanut knows how to spend her Caturdays. And for her, every single day is Caturday.

I am envious at how completely relaxed and chill she is nearly all of the time. You might say that she’s purr-fectly relaxed.

Now if I could only convince her to switch places with me so that she can trek off to work at 6:15 am and I can sleep in . . .

“Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always ‘me first,’
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end” (1 Corinthians 13:4-7, The Message).

“A lenten prayer to avoid entitlement from Richard Rohr:

‘Maybe we all should begin our days with a litany of satisfaction, abundance, and enoughness. God, you have given me another day of totally gratuitous life: my health, my eyes, my ears, my mind, my taste, my family, my freedom, my education, clean water, more than enough food, a roof over my head, a warm bed and blanket, friends, sunshine, a beating heart, and your eternal love and guidance.

To any one of these we must say, “And this is more than enough!'”

Boy, if I started out my days like that, what a difference it would make. There’d be less anxiety and more rest, less worry and more trust, less complaining and more gratitude, less bitterness and more joy.

Whenever people ask me how I’m doing, the answer I’ve been giving lately is “Better than I deserve.”

I believe Dave Ramsey has been known to say that as well, but I’m not sure if he’s the one who originated it. Whoever did was spot on.

I am always doing better than I deserve. If I’m honest, I know who I am apart from Jesus and it’s not pretty. Still, I get hesed — when the one from whom I have the right to expect nothing gives me everything instead (thanks to Michael Card for that one).

If you need something to readjust your attitude or reboot your way of thinking, that’s a good prayer. You can borrow or steal it from me anytime. I stole it from the best.

“yeah, so maybe the day didn’t go quite as planned, because, hey, let’s be real honest here, we aren’t what we would have planned. 
But, we can hear it, in all the noise everywhere, the grace of Your whispering Word right here: ‘All that matters? Is that I have loved you at your darkest. All that matters is that you are deeply loved in the midst of your deepest dark.’ Romans 5:8
So, yeah , we sit with that — sit with that for a good, long bit. That binds up the wounds. 
The grace in Christ is far greater than the mess in our crisis. 
That changes our world tonight…” (Ann Voskamp). 

#HonestPrayers #1000Gifts

Not every day is going to be your best day ever. Some days you can look back and say that the best part of that day is that it’s over.

But God has a a way of working even the worst of days– and even the most mediocre of days– into good. He is leading you into a deeper trust that you are loved and you are the Beloved, no matter what.