Hope and Faith

Late Monday night, I got the phone call that I've dreaded.

"I found one of your cats just laying there, and he's dead".

For 5 months of the year, I leave my house in Texas to come to my true home of Minnesota, leaving my 6 cats behind in the care of a competent, caring, pet sitter. 4 of the cats are over 11 years old, and were born in my bed (much to my surprise, because I didn't even know Grace, the mama cat, was pregnant). Blue Bell was the first kitten born that night - he was pure white, and would later get the Siamese marks his father probably had.

Grace had 4 kittens that night, but I moved out of her way after I saw Blue, and didn't see the rest of them until the next morning. The rest is history - I knew that I would have a hard time finding them all homes, and wasn't sure I could bear to part with them after they were weaned anyway.

All day Tuesday was gloomy, rainy, and all-around depressing. Everywhere I looked I found more sorrow. Intervention, a TV program I watch, featured a father of two that went to treatment only to find out he had cancer of the throat, and died 3 weeks after returning home.

I saw a chipmunk struggling towards the deck dragging a useless foot behind it. I'm still not sure if it was a result of a birth defect or an injury.

My air conditioning isn't working properly in Texas, and it's sure to cost a pretty penny when the repairman fixes it.

Late in the day yesterday, I was watching some TV program I had recorded, and the lead character said something like this: "Look for the bad and you'll find it. Look for the good and you'll find it too."

So this morning was chilly and rather gloomy too, and I woke up grieving for Blue. But as the day wore on, I noticed the chipmunk with the bad leg again, and he seemed to get around just fine. In fact, when I went out to see him, he ran so fast there's no way I would ever be able to catch him.

And a Mama and just-out-of-the-nest baby bird visited outside my window, and I got to watch Mama patiently open sunflower seeds and feed the nut inside to the baby, who was already bigger than she was.

The bunnies are cavorting again, which means more baby bunnies are on the way.

And the sun is back, the air smells sweet, and I'll have tomatoes in a couple of weeks.

Not perfect, but hopeful. Maybe that's all we have when we're deep in the caverns of sorrow, or loneliness, or depression. Hope that it will get better, and faith that it always does - if we only know to look for it.