Occasionally, I like to give all my readers an update on my new tortie feline, Peanut. As you can tell, she’s feline very fine. She’s also just about the most affectionate cat out there.

She’s not overly fond of strangers. When guests come over, she tends to stay away. I wonder if there’s some kind of hazy memory in her little brain from when she was a kitten. Perhaps some traumatic past event? After all, she was a rescue.

I sometimes miss the little 11-week old kitten from almost a year ago that used to snuggle up as close to my head as she could get. The current version is bigger and not quite as cuddly, but I remember Lucy was older before she became the champion lap cat and bedtime companion.

The current version of Peanut is very playful, sometimes hilarious, and always a lot of fun to watch. Again, I recommend that anyone who likes cats or dogs should strongly consider rescuing an animal first before buying from a breeder or a pet store. Rescues are the most loyal and loving animals ever.

I should know. Although I’m still not sure who rescued who.

I’ll tell you what I did today. I sweated. A lot. Like from 6:30 pm all the way to 9:00 pm.

It wasn’t even that hot outside, compared to what it’s been earlier this year, but something about the combination of heat and humidity about did me in.

I’m officially ready for fall.

Yep, you read that right. It’s not even officially summer yet and I’m over it.

Maybe I’m old, but I’m not good at tolerating excessive heat and/or humidity. I’m allergic to it. I break out in sweat.

The good news is that I had a lovely evening checking out some of the fine art at the Downtown Franklin Art Crawl. I had some fantastic catfish from a food truck.

The good definitely outweighs the bad. But I’m still ready for fall.

I did something that I haven’t done much of lately. At least not enough.

I picked up an actual book with actual pages and stuff. And actually read it. Well, some of it.

I confess that I could spend less time Netflixing and Britboxing (where I stream all the classic Doctor Who episodes) and more time reading.

I believe that as we as a culture are overtaken by the passive art of television and movies and less entranced by the art of reading that requires active engagement, we will continue to slide toward illiteracy and sheep mentality. We will believe whatever the politicians and the media tell us without question and lose the ability to think for ourselves. That’s always a dangerous place to be in.

The book in question is one I picked up at McKay’s a couple of years ago called A River Runs Through It and Other Stories by Norman Maclean. If the title sounds familiar, there was a movie based on the book that starred Brad Pitt from the early 90’s.

But I’m not waiting for the movie this time. I’m reading the book. I feel my IQ points climbing already just by picking up the book.

Hopefully, I can get back to the place where my idea of a good evening is a large cup of tea and an even larger book. These work well on overcast, rainy days when the satellite is out.

My assignment for you — should you choose to accept it — this week is to read something that involves opening the spine and turning the pages, like they did in the olden days. You might find that you like it.

Also maybe turn off the TV and the other streaming devices for a day. But let’s not get that crazy just yet. Start with the book first.

Frankly, I’m completely tired, my head hurts, and I’m all out of fresh ideas. So, I give you tonight’s guest blogger, one Mr. Charles Spurgeon. You might have heard of him before:

“Frequently we pray that God would not forsake us in the hour of trial and temptation, but we too much forget that we have need to use this prayer at all times. There is no moment of our life, however holy, in which we can do without his constant upholding. Whether in light or in darkness, in communion or in temptation, we alike need the prayer, ‘Forsake me not, O Lord.’ ‘Hold thou me up, and I shall be safe.’ A little child, while learning to walk, always needs the nurse’s aid. The ship left by the pilot drifts at once from her course. We cannot do without continued aid from above.

Let it then be your prayer to-day, ‘Forsake me not. Father, forsake not thy child, lest he fall by the hand of the enemy. Shepherd, forsake not thy lamb, lest he wander from the safety of the fold. Great Husbandman, forsake not thy plant, lest it wither and die. ‘Forsake me not, O Lord,’ now; and forsake me not at any moment of my life.

Forsake me not in my joys, lest they absorb my heart. Forsake me not in my sorrows, lest I murmur against thee. Forsake me not in the day of my repentance, lest I lose the hope of pardon, and fall into despair; and forsake me not in the day of my strongest faith, lest faith degenerate into presumption.

Forsake me not, for without thee I am weak, but with thee I am strong. Forsake me not, for my path is dangerous, and full of snares, and I cannot do without thy guidance.

The hen forsakes not her brood, do thou then evermore cover me with thy feathers, and permit me under thy wings to find my refuge. ‘Be not far from me, O Lord, for trouble is near, for there is none to help.’ ‘Leave me not, neither forsake me, O God of my salvation!'” (Charles Spurgeon, Morning and Evening).

I had another lesson in waiting, only this time it wasn’t so much fun. Or much fun. Or any fun at all.

My latest test came in the form of Nashville traffic, which you’d think wouldn’t be so bad on the day after schools let out for the summer. Could you be more wrong?

This traffic caused me to miss a haircut appointment (also the fact that I thought it was at 5:30 instead of 5). It led to me being late for dinner with the Kairos greeter team. It most decidedly led to a disturbance of my calm.

I’d like to say I handled today’s batch of traffic well. I did not. I fumed. I raged. I thought of every cuss word I knew (but managed to say none of them out loud, being the good and faithful Baptist). I let frustration get the better of me.

A gentle reminder came to me that I’m just as saved and forgiven and loved by God in the middle of me reacting badly to traffic as when I think I’ve got it all together and all my proverbial ducks are in a row.

I will get all my hairs cut next Thursday at 5:30. I can look back and be thankful that my car did not overheat, break down, or give me any kind of trouble for all that time I sat on the interstate or on Concord Road.

And I had excellent music to help me from going homicidal.

I’d call that a win.