Wow. What a marathon of a birthday. My 35th was a strange, sad, happy, crazy, blessed birthday. Started my birthday by finishing watching The Help with Shawn at around 12:30 a.m. Woke up at 5:00 to get ready to take the Mr. to the airport for his 10 days of orientation with Food for the Hungry in Arizona, came back to bring Andrew to school but he stayed up too late last night and couldn’t drag himself out of bed, had a rough day of homeschooling (attitudes!!), intermittently found myself weeping all throughout the day as I thought about the grief and suffering our dear friends are going through right now and that if I could be anywhere in the world this week it would be in Alberta, Canada, broke up tons of sibling melt-downs that largely centered on surprising me and keeping birthday secrets from me, almost threw in the homeschooling towel during a phonics lesson (pretty sure I sprouted a few grey hairs), and then was pleasantly surprised by a small birthday party that my dear, wonderful, loving sister, Sandy, put together for me. And now I’m going to go to bed and cuddle with my two sweet kitties and pray myself to sleep. Thank you LORD for your kindness, thank you LORD for your mercy… thank you LORD for your provision… thank you LORD for grace… thank you LORD for the resurrection — our only hope for life.
The truth is, my thoughts have been largely preoccupied with grief for our friends… with prayer on their behalf… with struggling to figure out ways to love them from afar and learning that the way to do that is mostly just going to be prayer, tears, prayer, tears and more prayer.
But one of my dearest friends, who has walked this road with friends before, reminded me today that it is only right to cry and pray and to not hold back on either… but yet to continue living. Embracing each day and doing life. Indeed… we are just far off friends. This tragedy has not touched us in any tangible way — it is not daily before us. But my grief for my friends has been and continues to be profound. I ache for how they are aching. And my only service to them can be my tears and my prayers to our Holy God…
I know this is quite a juxtaposition and there is really no fitting segue but you probably noticed above that I mentioned my two kitties. I’ve been wanting to mention it on here but it just has not felt right. But I’m going to just come out with it… I got a new kitty last Saturday. He’s so sweet and mild-mannered. Laid back and fluffy like a bunny. He nuzzles faces. He licks tears. And the smiles that brings are delightful.
His name is Paul. His whole name is Paul Hewson. (Name that celebrity) But we just call him Paul. I don’t know quite how I just popped up with the name Paul but there it was. It suited him. Sometimes the kids like to call him by his stage name. I’ll let you work that one out with Google if you don’t already know it.
So, here he is. He’s a flame point siamese tabby mix. He has the beauty of a siamese, the softness and sweet temperament of a tabby. In other words, purrfect. (Sorry. I’m incurable.)