kitty friends

Thor and Loki have been having way too much fun with Amy this week. :)

on weakness and trust

Sometimes… at night… I think too much.

The fall of the dark curtain seems a veritable power switch for my brain, and all of a sudden I might be analyzing end times events or manufacturing the sounds of a break-in or remembering, vividly, near-forgotten scenes from a long-ago childhood.

Me and my sister Hannah, with baby Lenny and another kitten we only had for a little while before it died.

Last night, at 12:19 AM, it was grief that came to mind.

Bold, sharp memories of some of the saddest times of my life.

I can’t complain that I’ve had a particularly difficult life thus far, but I can’t claim that this earthly existence is ever quite an easy ride. And in the dark it was like all my forgotten wounds began to open again, like a fist hit me in the gut with breath-catching force… scenes that pour back into my head and flood my eyes before I can put up a defense.

The hot tears blotching my lined notebook paper that morning after they called to say Grandpa had died, and the ache that I felt less for him than for my mom, his youngest daughter.

The strangled silence at 10:25am on August 3, 2010, when they told me they couldn’t save my precious kitty, and the strangely delayed convulsing sobs that came after as I wondered at this new experience of intimate loss.

The odd mix of relief and heartbreak when I watched Mt. Hood go by on the left as my flight ascended eastward, bound for Orlando.

The bland coldness inside when I learned that my grandma had died days before, 2,000 miles away in Washington while I was trying to plod through one more week of counseling at camp in Pennsylvania.

These are all times that I survived; and yet in the night when they stampede my brain, I wonder if I really did pull through and conquer, or if the battle of mourning is only still in process after all. I still strain to hear my grandpa’s throaty voice or see him dip dinosaur crackers in his coffee. I still feel a little raw somewhere inside when I remember the taste of biscotti or the softness of Grandma’s voice or the cooing of their pet dove; the speechless hollowness that first appeared on August 3, 2010 at 10:25am is still there too.

Grief is a mysterious thing. In the beginning, it might be a hurricane… only to morph into a deathly stillness that is almost worse than the storm. It might become easy to ignore for awhile, until without warning, it puts a fist to your guts and you reel, blindsided, groping for balance, gasping for breath.
I wonder if greater maturity will someday yield me a surer hold on these wild parts of my emotional self, or if grief levels us all to an equal state of helplessness, regardless of age or life experience or personality. Perhaps we are all meant to need the muscle of someone else when we have been battered limp by this kind of pain. And yet it is incredible how often we collapse alone instead. Afraid of being preached at, afraid of being misunderstood, afraid of being judged, afraid of more hurt; too proud or too insecure or too confused—at least, these are some of the shackles that have kept my own heart bound up in the face of compassion. But what did Paul say…

“Our mouth has spoken freely to you, O Corinthians, our heart is opened wide. You are not restrained by us, but you are restrained in your own affections. Now in a like exchange—I speak as to children—open wide to us also.” 2 Corinthians 6:11-13

Opened wide. It’s risky. It feels unnatural to relinquish our only source of control when our first concern is to avoid being hit again where we’re already wounded. We are required to trust the grace and love of someone else if help and healing is really what we want.

Does that sound familiar? Maybe this is truth in more than grief... maybe in fear, in doubt, in sin, in loneliness, in anger.

“For the Word of God is living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword, and piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intents of the heart. And there is no creature hidden from His sight, but all things are open and laid bare to the eyes of Him with whom we have to do. Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but One who has been tempted in all things as we are, yet without sin. Therefore let us draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” Hebrews 4:12-16

five years

 

August 3 marked five years since my first fluffy orange kitty died. Just a couple weeks ago I learned that his mommy, Junebug, has also passed away at age 17. It felt a little like the end of an era… the end of several generations of mighty orange hunters. I adore my obnoxiously affectionate Thor and infuriatingly sly Loki, but there will always be a special part of my heart reserved for Lenny the Lionheart. :)

a thor and loki update

 

I can’t believe they grow as fast as they do. Thor is now 4-1/2 months old and Loki is 3-1/2. They’re both up to date on all vet visits except a booster shot for Loki and a microchip for Thor. As their portraits denote, Loki’s personality gets ever crazier (he can sometimes be found entertaining himself by running around in circles on our bed, pouncing on wrinkles in the comforter) and Thor, ever mellower and fluffier (my favorite thing is watching him try to clean his tail. It’s getting so big and fluffy that he has to really wrestle with it). True to kitty nature their naps extend longer and longer every day that they get older, but they still get the big-eyed bursts of energy every night when the house cools down.

Currently they are only allowed outdoors for short, supervised periods of time. They recently acquired breakaway collars for when their outside time increases (which for the furniture’s sake needs to be soon!). They are both well aware that jumping on the dining room table and kitchen counters is off limits, but they are both perfectly happy to do it anyway regardless of the punishment. Favorite toys include the rolly-balls with bells inside them and of course their playhouse, which they routinely destroy; they also enjoy doing battle with anything that resembles a box or paper bag.

four years

 

I remember saying when my dear fluffy kitty Lenny died that I didn’t think I’d ever be able to have another orange cat. A cat, yes—but not an orange one, not one that would feel like a replacement for Lenny.

It’s been four years and, finally, I’ve healed enough. Finally there is more sweetness to the memories than bitterness, and even though my heart still hurts for Lenny, somehow I can love my second orange kitten even while I ache for the first. Hearts are more resilient than I thought they were; they are ever bending and expanding to love new characters, and even when they’re broken somehow they mend, though they’re never quite the same.

This is my Thor (better known in my house as Tor). He’s cuddly and happy and purrs almost incessantly. He’s precocious and social and loves just about everybody. I wonder if he’ll grow up to have the heart of a lion, like Lenny did: territorial, defensive, and fiercely loyal—yet loving and polite and regal. Or maybe he’ll always just be happy-go-lucky, oblivious little Tor who thinks the whole world is sunshine and roses. :)

summertime days

 

george

 

I will forever have a soft spot for fluffy orange kitties.

twenty

 

I found this when I was looking for old pictures for my wedding slideshow, and since today is my birthday I’m taking some sentimental liberties on my blog. Twenty is a nice enough age, I suppose, but six years old with a fluffy orange cat, playing in the snow… that’s just hard to beat.

grace, weekly // 6

 

Just a few evidences of God’s unmerited favor on me that I’m thankful for as the sun rises on December…

i. my family.

Singing crazy Christmas carols, laughing hysterically, stacking wood, talking about music or football or whatever else happens to surface… I really, really enjoy having all my siblings and my cousins together once in awhile. :)

ii. pretty arrangements of apples in the doorway and the bounty I have been given.

iii. light, my paintbrush.

As a photography student, I might as well describe myself as a student of light—natural, available, and artificial. Like most amateurs, natural light has been my primary course of study on my own, but my New York Institute of Photography course has opened up a world of exciting possibilities with other kinds of light—as well as better ways to maximize the outdoor light I always work with.

iv. getting excited about Christmas.

Amy has been handwriting personalized copies of her Christmas list for every member of the family and begging Mom to start getting the Christmas decorations out!

v. kitty cats.

Cats fascinate me. :)

vi. a godly man and 83 days to go.

The Bible says that a virtuous wife is of worth above rubies. But what about a godly man? He is rare indeed, for nothing is harder than trying to fill the symbolic role of Christ in a relationship—and he’s priceless because of it. I am blessed.

vii. words:

viii. music:

I am so thankful for a love so deep that neither death nor life, neither angels or demons, neither present nor future, nor any powers, any height or depth, or anything else in all of Creation can separate me from it. (Romans 8:38-39)

If you don’t know this love as your own, you need it. You can’t buy it, you can’t earn it, you can’t even borrow it from someone else—but you can take it from the Hand that offers it.

ix. Bible:

“I delight in Your law. It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I may learn Your statutes. The law of Your mouth is better to me than thousands of gold and silver pieces.” Psalm 119:70b-72

There was a time when I would have taken the silver and gold over this Book any day—it seemed so big and intimidating and difficult to understand. And spending last year learning it required more sacrifice and endurance from me than anything I’ve done in my life (so far—marriage will probably trump it pretty soon!). But I am thankful for every affliction I went through—homesickness, shin splints, sleep deprivation, classmate drama, six weeks on crutches, head lice, relationship strain, and concussion, just to name a few—because they all played a role in shaping my heart to live, love, and breathe the truth and changelessness of God’s Word. Difficulty is one of God’s most effective classrooms when the heart is yielding! It is my prayer that the Church—myself included—would count trials a small price to pay for the surpassing value of knowing the Lord intimately.

 

 

 

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douglas

 

Oh how I love big, fluffy, friendly kitties.

the racer

 

I’d never seen a racer snake before, until Ewok dragged it up to our garden yesterday. Snakes fascinate me . . . which is probably a bit unhealthy, considering:

The Lord God said to the serpent,

“Because you have done this,
Cursed are you more than all cattle,
And more than every beast of the field;
On your belly you will go,
And dust you will eat
All the days of your life;
And I will put enmity
Between you and the woman,
And between your seed and her seed;
He shall bruise you on the head,
And you shall bruise him on the heel.”

Genesis 3:14-15