Wednesday, April 23, 2014


As I was driving home for my lunch hour today, I was feeling a little grumpy.  I was thinking about the dishes that needed done, the bathroom that needed cleaned, the piano that needed dusting, the litter box that needed changed, that I hadn't found a cat brother for Lily, the laundry to be done, bills to be paid...and that I didn't really want left over pulled pork for lunch.

And then, I saw him.

As I turned the corner in my car that is almost out of gas and is badly in need of a wash, I saw an older Native American gentleman sitting on a lawn near a government building.  He had a large backpack with, what I assume, is everything he owns inside.  He was eating a sandwich and drinking water, while resting on the soft green grass.  He was clearly a wanderer that frequents one of the downtown shelters that I drive past every single day.  My first thought was that it was so cold and windy today, he must be freezing.  But as I looked closer, I realized he was smiling and singing to himself.    I thought I should stop and help him, but he looked so peaceful and happy.  And I didn't want to ruin that and remind him of his circumstance just to satisfy my need to save the world.

The rest of the way home, I found myself being grateful for my little, old home with peeling paint, my portable dishwasher, my one kitty, my dirty clothes, my unmade bed, the leftovers in my fridge, the heat bill, my gently used furniture, my hot water heater and my dirty car that needs gas.  Heavenly Father has given me so much and sometimes, I'm annoyed at my tile counter tops because I'd prefer granite or quartz.  I hate the ceramic tile on my floor with it's cracks and wish it was wood.  How often do I thank Him for my blessings and then not actually be grateful for them?  Every.  Stupid.  Day. I have so much to be grateful for.  So, so much.  Aside from the things already listed, I'm grateful for my good husband, my family, my job, my calling, the gospel and so much more. 

Today, I'm actually going to show my gratitude for those things.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Cat Boy

A little over 5 years ago, Tim took me to the humane society to pick up the best Christmas present ever.  He was a blue eyed Siamese, Balinese mix named Fluffy....and that was a stupid name.  So, we brought him home and named him Jack.
Over those five years, there were countless times that I laughed until I cried at the things he did, the foods he ate and the places he would hide.  He was always good for a snuggle and a kitten hug and big purrs.  He liked to beg for my food and sometimes, just take it out of my hand when he felt he needed to.  He loved to escape and hide under the porch and scratch himself on the bush in the front yard.  He loved to torment Lily Belle.  He loved to play with his favorite toy Fish.  He would often sprint from room to room to room before sliding across the tile in the kitchen right into the food mat...consequently spilling all the food.  When Tim would go on hunting trips, Jack never left my side.  He slept in front of the bedroom door and would wait by the back door for Tim to get home.  Often times, even before we got a king sized bed, we would wake up to find Jack stretched out, under the covers, with his head on a pillow in between the two of us.  If he wasn't sleeping there, he was sleeping on my pillow, wrapped around my head or stretched out on Tim's back with his paws on Tim's shoulders.  He loved our fireplace insert in our entertainment center.  He spent cold nights lying in front of it and spent the days trying to figure out how to get the cat inside of it out...(his reflection...) He was patient and funny and loving and affectionate.
Then, he got sick.
I'll spare you the details, but to the very last day, he was still affectionate and loving and snuggly, even if he didn't feel good.
Taking my son to the vet that very last time was the hardest thing that I have ever done.  Ever.  And I've done a lot of hard things.
I miss him every day.  I miss seeing him run to the door when I get home.  I miss having him jump on my lap at the dinner table.  I miss him standing on the counter trying to get into the crockpot.  I miss him sitting in between the shower curtains.  I miss him.  I know that he's sitting in Heaven with my Grammy being scratched and coddled and waiting for me to get there so that he can run to the door to meet me, but it doesn't make it any easier.
I never thought that a simple trip to the humane society could change my life.
We went there to rescue him...
And it turned out that Jack rescued me.

love you forever, little cat boy.