Drinking it in

It's raining today: a steady, soaking rain. After a fairly dry summer - we had to water our garden to keep it growing - the trees, grass and shrubs are enjoying the rain.  They are drinking it in gratefully, the leaves perking up where they've been drooping and the grass seeming greener than before.

All of us need that experience of a good, refreshing, cool drink of water ... whether physical or spiritual ... to keep us supple and nourished inside and out. 

It got me to thinking today about what nourishes and feeds me. I have plenty to eat, and clean water to drink, which makes me far richer than over a billion people in the world.  I also have a roof over my head that keeps the extremes of cold and heat out, and more than one outfit to wear - again, more than what billions have - and most days, I take these things for granted!

Photo "Autumn Gold" courtesy of Simon Howden
at www.freedigitalphotos.net

But as Thanksgiving approaches, I find myself feeling gratitude bubbling up from within, for many of the things I normally don't even think about. 

I have so many blessings, not the least of which are those loved ones who live with me: my husband and family (including the four-legged kids too!) who always believe in me, and always look out for my well-being. As Dory said in Finding Nemo, "When I look at you, I'm ... I'm home!" I can't begin to express the degree to which their presence in my life brings me a sense of joy and completion. I only hope that someday they will get an inkling of how important and amazing they are to me.

Sharing the little events of each other's days, the joys and the sorrows, the ups and the downs: these are blessings. Living in the moment, just as creation does, loving every raindrop, every sunbeam, every bit of provision from the Creator, is curiously rejuvenating.  Experiencing all of this with the people I love is quite the trip, and yes, I am drinking it in, like a refreshing thunderstorm after a dry spell. It restores me, makes me whole, and gives me a boost to keep going. I need that, just like I need air ... just like the plants need rain. 

T.L.C.

The night before last, there was a "cat explosion" in our house.

They happen frequently. The three cats are sitting within sight of one another, and nobody knows who starts it, but it seems that all three of them jump as if zapped by electricity and they all race off in different directions. It's comical to watch! 

But this last time, someone zigged when they should have zagged. And one of the cats got hurt.  Of course, cats are not all that good at showing that they are in pain, but the kitty in question did have her hair all poofed out longer than usual for this type of event. Later, we saw her limping - and we thought she'd hurt a joint in her ankle in the back. We helped her, made a little bed for her in a large dog-crate with some litter in there and a couple of food dishes, so that she wouldn't be tempted to try to jump up on things or do too much, and today, she went to see the vet to get checked over. 

It turns out that it was a hip problem - a stretched ligament or tendon most likely - and the vet gave her an anti-inflammatory shot and gave us some medication to give in her food. 

This is our little Eris - named after the
goddess of Chaos in Greek mythology.
The photo was taken in April 2016.

We were concerned that her "brothers" - who are both bigger than she is - would take advantage of her weakness and try to bully her.

Quite the opposite. There has been quizzical trilling, sniffing, and reaching out paws to her, and one or the other of them is not far from her crate, keeping her company whenever they can. The oldest perched on her crate this morning, and was there most of the day (except for when she was at the vet's) guarding her and letting her know he was there by occasionally hanging his paws in front of the door, letting her sniff them. 

Both of the boys have been very gentle with her, and have not tried to engage her in playing (which to them means roughhousing!) They have stayed close, and have changed their favourite perches so they can see what she is doing in the crate.  What a tremendous model of tender loving care! The whole family has been so concerned for her, looking after her, making sure she is fed, comfortable, and settled down. The vet says that she will need to take it easy like this for another week and a half, and wants to check her over again on Monday just to see if there has been any improvement. 

Such care and love expressed toward a little seven and a half pound ball of cuteness... who has melted our hearts over and over again... and seeing her brothers take such good care of her is so heartening. It's so not what we expected, such a surprising display of concern and caring, that we are in awe.

It's so encouraging. I'm so grateful to have them all in my life. :-D



 

This Old House

It doesn't look like much from the top of the hill where the old church sits.  It looked like even less when I was growing up, shaped like those children's drawings of their house, taller than it was wide, with windows that looked like rectangular eyes. Dad always said that it looked like a "two-storey outhouse." It was nothing more than part of someone else's house when it was moved to the property in 1954. Dad, providing for his oldest son and pregnant wife, closed off the open end and built the second storey. Though it served the purpose, it wasn't much to look at.

But it was home. All the rooms were cramped, and there was never enough space to put things, but there was always - miraculously - room for one more person to share a meal. I remember one family gathering where there were nineteen people there for the meal and we ate at two tables plus a child's table to accommodate everyone. 

When my brother's marriage ended, and he had nowhere else to go, they opened their arms wide and the house became home again to him. Dad realized that their other children had homes of their own, but that this child no longer had that luxury. He insisted that the family home pass to this son. My mother honoured his request only a few short years ago.

Photo "Childs Drawing Made With Chalk" courtesy of
m_bartosch at www.freedigitalphotos.net

Dad had always wanted to "build on." He never saw that day, but in 1994, about a year after he passed away, Mom got a contractor's license and contracted the work out herself. That's how the house got an extra bedroom, bathroom, dining room, and living room, all on the main floor, and the stairs got relocated to the "new part." This opened up the old living room to convert to what is essentially a bedroom with a TV in it.  This is where my brother sleeps now.

The walls of this old house have rung with laughter. They have dripped with grief, and fear, and anger. The memories haunt me when I go there to visit, so I focus on the people and not the memories. The last time I was there, Mom was still living there, but now she lives in a hospital room, waiting for someone else to die so that she can be placed in a nursing home ... not by her choice or any of ours. 

It will be hard going back there without her to greet me with a hug ... but go I will, to visit my brother. He and I and this house are linked together. We have all experienced a common history.

It is my brother's ability to manage the house and its expenses that occupies my thoughts lately. He is missing Mom, and having to deal with paying the bills and providing for his needs without help.  If all goes well, though, he will be able to handle this responsibility. 

Although I no longer call this old house "home", I still feel a connection to it, and I want to make sure it is available to my brother for as long as he needs it. I don't know exactly what all that will mean, but the old homestead still has some memories left to build. And I'm willing to do my part to make sure that they are good ones.