Cats

Hindsight is pretty much useless (or be a bringer of cake)

“But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.” 1 Peter 3:15

Yesterday I went up to the front desk of the library and requested my “link” book. For most of us book lovers, comforting and familiar though they may be, our local library shelves frequently come up lacking. The book I’ve been waiting for came in. When I approached the lady librarian and said I had a link, she quipped, “A link to the future?” “The past?” She was trying to be clever I guess, and I stammered a bit and said lamely, “I try my best to live in the present, one day at a time.” As I left, I thought of the above Bible verse. Why? Another opportunity and I missed it. I could’ve said so many things. Here are a few I thought of (after the fact.)

I do have a link to the future, His name is Jesus, do you know Him?

Jesus is the same yesterday, today and forever, so yes, I do have a link to the future!

And how about this one, “I am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end. Revelation 22:13

Yup, that just about sums up my missed opportunity to tell someone the Good News. I seem to be so good at thinking of things after the fact. Next time, I’ll be ready. Hindsight is pretty much useless unless you apply the lesson. I doubt I’ll get another opportunity like that one. On the heels of moments like these little seeds of doubt creep in. Somewhere in the core of my being was I afraid of what she might think? Questions remain, even as I swat the bothersome thoughts away. A lesson to learn. The Holy Spirit’s pang of disappointment lingers in my spirit. A seed remains unplanted.

Then, last Friday a friend and I went to put down her cat. I volunteered to go with her. The cat was cared for and loved for by all 4 of us, really. Both she and her brother were constant fixtures when we were in the Motorhome for 8 years. She hung out under Vernon Weigum’s car, sunning herself, and we started calling her Weigumina. She also went by Miss Kitty, Sissy, Wiggy respectfully. When I watched her the other day, I noticed her back legs shaking and weak and she had stopped eating. She went downhill fast from there. We think maybe a stroke. Wiggy held a special place in my heart because every morning she would trot ahead of me to the swing in the dark and we would watch for the dawn. I would drink coffee, and she would lick frosting off whatever I was eating. Usually a cookie. She also had an uncanny ability to gauge the direction of your car tire and not budge from where she was laying. If she had thumbs, she could have driven a car.

It was so very sad of course but we knew without a doubt that it was time. During the 1 1/2 hours we had to wait, it was agony for her and us too. We smothered her with love and kisses up until the time she fell into a merciful sleep. I was drained when I got home so Elaine offered to go to the store. When she came back, she presented me with a small cake with frosting and sprinkles in honor of Wiggy. The comic relief was when I turned back around after getting a plate, Atticus had licked an entire dollop of icing from the top.

I found that cake and wine went very well together. We will all miss you Sissy, so much.

The moral of the story is that cake makes things better. I hope you have someone who brings you cake with sprinkles on sad days. Or if you don’t, then be the bringer yourself. Or better yet, be both people. The second is to always be ready for the opportunity when it comes to bring hope in the form of words. That is, The Word Himself, Jesus.

If you have men who will exclude any of God’s creatures from the shelter of compassion and pity, you will have men who will deal likewise with their fellow men. St. Francis

I got nothing


There are those days when I want so badly to write but nothing comes. Today was one. I started a whole blog post but felt as if I were digging into a place I didn’t want to have to dig out of. Mentally. It’s a beautiful Indian summer day. Can we still use that term? I used my fluffy blanket last night which makes me happy going to bed. Even if I have to throw them off during the night in a fit of clammy huffiness. Then I awoke with a feeling of the ground shifting (not an earthquake). It’s not quite fear, just uneasiness. I fished my phone out from under my pillow, pulled up You Tube, and found an Abide called, “Peaceful Night with God (Stories for Sleep) within about 15 minutes I was fast asleep. They don’t work for everyone, my friend tried it and she kept waiting for a story with a beginning, middle and end. They don’t do that, rather they meander around like some Jazz tunes do.

Anyway, I have felt uneasy the last few days, and I remember this morning that the second was the day my mom went to Heaven. The second was Yom Kippur, the holiest day in the Jewish calendar; the Day of Atonement. Tradition holds that one’s fate for the coming year is sealed on Yom Kippur, which determines if their name is written in the Book of Life. That’s the really big most important book. This is how you can know you are there: https://bibletruths.org/is-your-name-written-in-the-lambs-book-of-life/

Yom Kippur commemorates the day when Moses came down from Mount Sinai with the 10 Commandments which God Himself wrote on with a finger of lightning. Of course, after praying and fasting, he came down and found that Israel had fashioned their own god (small g). They had got tired of waiting. Don’t be too judgmental, I can remember many times in my life when I got tired of waiting for answered prayer and I’m sure you can too. All I have to do is try to put my phone away for two hours and I realized just how close I come to worshiping something man-made.

Anyway, it’s a beautiful day. I’m going over to feed my aunt’s neighbors’ cats, then go to church and after that attend our local Fall Festival downtown. I asked God this morning in prayer if He would shift the insides to sunny instead of cloudy gloom and it seems like He’s done it. (Thank you God) The best thing we can do on any given day is to be thankful. Being thankful is the best way to Worship God. And don’t forget to thank God for your washer and dryer. Having to go to a Laundromat for 8 years is extremely humbling. Just now, a train blew through, and I thank God for that. I always pray that the conductor won’t have to worry about someone passed out on the tracks. (It’s happened many times) I remember how I missed trains in Arizona.

Well, so long for now. And have a blessed day.

Breath of Heaven

Another of God’s little miracles

Morning Visitors

I welcome the cool breezes

thinking you do too….


I remember Arizona, walking outside on the first day after a long relentless summer and being surprised by relief. No one knows that except someone that has been through as least one year in the desert. We’ve had a short heat wave here but nothing like those days. To us it’s nothing, for we have the hope of the delta breezes and relief at night. You wouldn’t think I would miss it, and I don’t miss that parts of it. The magic of the desert did a number on my heart and soul that stays with me. It was so easy to see God in the sky, in the storms, in the backdrop of the Superstition Mountains as I came home after a long 12-hour shift.

I got to visit a really unique property yesterday, acres of wide-open spaces and views galore. I miss seeing the sky. I remember my Dad commenting on how much sky you can see in the desert when he came to visit. I didn’t think too much about it until we moved back to tree land. “Dirty nasty trees” is what Elaine calls them. (Using her best Gollum voice) Hence the sap that has settled on my car due to parking downtown last night. Oh well, everywhere has its drawbacks. I did enjoy seeing the bees on our crepe myrtle this morning. Something about watching them go from bloom to bloom reinforces the fact that all is not lost. There are still bees left.

Sometimes I get so sick of all the endless garbage strewn across the interweb. So much of it is brain-rot but then you run across something truly refreshing. Here it is….https://annekennedy.substack.com/p/jen-hatmaker-and-jesus

I remember when all the women (and some men) bloggers were jumping on Jen Hatmaker’s bandwagon. I never understood it, and I was skeptical. I won’t say anything about it since Anne says it so much better than I could but give it a read. And enjoy your Sunday. Go to church, and if you don’t have one find one. And don’t try to find a perfect one so don’t try. I have found that I ruin every perfect church I find. The most important thing is that you hear about God there and that they preach out of His book.

In the meantime, I will try to find another chair, Atticus claimed mine when I got up.

Coming Home

“Those who live in the shadow of the most high will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.’ Psalm 91:1-2

It’s been so long since I’ve been here that I feel as if I have crept into the back door of my childhood home, letting myself in with the spare key. I can almost hear the creak of the screen door. I actually did do a recording of that squeak once, not wanting to forget what it sounded like. I drive by there from time to time to check on my brother’s rental that was put in the trust when he died, since its about 3 doors down.

The explanation for why I haven’t been here. I guess it’s just that the words haven’t come, not for lack of things happening in and outside of my life but for lack of thinking that any of it matters to anyone else. I tell myself it’s all part of the journey of writing. I hear people talk about it, the silence. I guess there is a place for it, otherwise why the 400 years of silence between Isaiah and the New Testament?

I recently started a Bible Study that I’m really enjoying. My childhood friend invited me and it’s held at a small Baptist Church that reminds me of church the way it used to be. We gather together in the sanctuary with the leader ( a little 4’11” dynamo) with a sparkle in her eyes and her spirit and a humble heart. We sing a hymn (from an actual hymnal) then she prays for us and we are released into our small groups and work through our study with a leader. We then meet back in the main hall where Pam goes through all our questions with a final lecture. I find myself looking forward to each lesson. I feel it bubbling through me like living water.

Getting back to the theme of home, where I think this is all going. Anytime we delve into Scripture, it’s a bit like coming home all over again. That is, if we put a bit of work into it. And this actual home we moved into, oh my friends, we are enjoying it so much. Eight years of living in a very small space does a number on you. For those who forgot or didn’t know, when we moved back here, we lived on my aunt’s property on the Mokelumne River. (Click on link to see) It fed my nature loving soul and it was a beautiful setting for sure. That part of it I miss but it was so restrictive in many ways. (And tiny) Constant worry over maintenance of an older RV and 50-year-old trees falling among other things and we were done.

So, we are home. This is the final resting place this side of Heaven unless there is an earthly purgatory in the form of a care home (God forbid). Not being able to care for yourself is a real downside of getting older. As my aunt says (she’s 92 now) “It’s not for sissies.”

It’s kind of weird how God and life work if you pay attention. About 40 years ago I came to this very same mobile home park. I went out on a spiritual limb and said yes to God (it was actually my aunt and uncle) but the much bigger yes is the one I said to God when he asked me to sing with their small group. ( A solo with canned background music) To this day I’m not sure why I said yes. Singing a solo was about as far from my personality as it gets. But He came through for me then and He has never left my side. All these years later, here I am and here He is.

So thank you for anyone here still reading and caring. The kittens we got from the Balam Foundation in Mexico are thriving. Atticus has attached himself to me and Scout has made Elaine his mama. Of course, we love them both equally. Needless to say, there will be no Christmas trees inside this year. We got some decorations up and I found Santa on the ground this morning with a few small parts missing. So far that is the only casualty. And for the first time in 9 years, we are cooking a turkey for Thanksgiving. Life is good friends. Most importantly God is good.

If you are still here, thank you for slogging along with me. I hope you and yours have a very Blessed Thanksgiving this year from my humble Prayer Closet……Peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Lori

Finally Home

Bless the Lord, O my soul and forget not all his benefits: who forgives all your iniquities, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from destruction, who crowns you with loving kindness and tender mercies……Psalm 103:2-4

The Rumba is working its way around the house, and I have two little kitties nearby. They have finally settled after wrestling and bouncing off the walls for the past 3 hours. One is sitting in the decorative bowl on the table and one right beside him. When we got them, they both fit! “They” are Atticus and Scout, respectively, and a constant source of joy, having been cat less since Briggs died in 2020. 

This is retirement, the first week in. Several times over the past few days, I have found myself in a state of wonder at how incredibly blessed I am, how at peace, how content. On my first walk around the park where our new (refurbished) home is situated I dug out my old iPod and selected the playlist I used to walk Desert Harbor in Arizona. It was like I was home, really home. 

Living in a very small space for the past 8 years really makes you appreciate the everyday things. A new washer and dryer that we almost worshipped the first few weeks. No more laundromat! Our own garbage can, for another. We never used the can at Aunt’s house because she was very fussy about her garbage. 

I’m home, I’m home, I’m home and I never have to move again. What a feeling……I can scarcely describe it. God is so good. At first, we kind of poo-pooed this park. It wasn’t as “perfect and pristine” as we liked. We had our eye on another in a neighboring town. It was well-kept and the space rent was lower. There were a few that came up for sale but inside repairs would have been costly. It just wasn’t meant to be.

Elaine wasn’t sold when we looked at this place, but I secretly thought “I could live here.” There was a kind of strange room off the living room. Back in the day it might have been called a “family room,” separating both sides of the house. Elaine turned in circles and exclaimed, “What is this room?” I am happy to say that it has become a beautiful library. (Pictures to follow in another post) Wayfair is our new best friend. Of course, you have to build whatever you buy and thankfully Elaine is very talented. I was the assistant handing tools and fetching screws and bolts.

First, we made an offer which they didn’t accept. Then it fell through twice more. We made another offer, with concessions and it was accepted. 

Here’s another strange thing. Over and over, I have had this dream for years of two big closets. I just go from one to the other with a sense of amazement in the dream. Well, yes, you guessed it. I have two walk-in closets. Thank you, Jesus! The second walk-in has become the litter box room and storage for Christmas.

Each day, I wake up so very, very thankful. Life is good on a Sunday morning in June. 

But I have trusted in your mercy; My heart shall rejoice in Your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me. Psalm 13:5,6

No Title

I don’t know if “No Title” is a title but it’s okay.

It’s Sunday and I should be getting ready for church. I’ve been up for hours, first Sissy-cat then Bo Bo, taking lap turns while I started my new book, “Animal Dreams”, another Kingsolver. I had to turn Demon Copperhead back in. The writing was superb, but it was just too dark and I don’t need to be immersed in that darkness right now. Maybe I’ll pick it up again at a later date when my life calms down. 

Back to my present church apathetical malaise. I find I can relate easily to David as quoted in Psalm 42:4 when he says: 

These things I remember as I pour out my soul: how I would go with the throng and lead them in procession to the house of God with glad shouts and songs of praise, a multitude keeping festival. 

I feel like the lukewarm person that Jesus refers to when He says: “I would that you were hot or cold…..” I don’t know what’s causing it. I do know I’m happy when I go, but I’m also happy sitting here and of course it’s much easier. I have no excuse. 

Part of yesterday was spent with a friend looking over my brother’s house and everything in it for her expert opinion on the feasibility of holding an estate sale there. I thought she would run off screaming but she was undaunted. I was ready to empty the contents of the bathroom into a garbage bag to dump but she said no, that (emphatically!) “People will pay for that!” I obviously have no clue about this stuff but she does. 

She will let me know if she wants to do it, I have yet to hear back. If not, we will go in another direction. Maybe all this stuff is catching up with me. I need to go to church regularly and I need to walk regularly. Just not today. I am extremely satisfied with my stack of books right now. (Reading two and two in the wings) Kingsolver is my new favorite author.

I cleared a space for the four chairs I want down below in the little shack, but upon inspection this morning I saw a very fat creepy spider hanging by the doorway. I will have to spray the living daylights out of it before I brave the door. (Sorry Charlotte) I have no mercy and need to get things done. 

Today I will post this, then see what comes next. And tomorrow is another work day, and another work week closer to retirement. 

We did find a home for my brother’s two fish and it was kind of comical. I just couldn’t flush them! They were too happy. Elaine made the sacrifice of putting her hand in the slimy fish-poop water and scooped them out. I held them in their ziplock, still happily swimming into an unknown future. The guy at the Pet Supply got on his walkie-talkie and asked if they take (used) fish. He gave a conspiratorial glance and said, “Now’s your chance, leave them and head out the door and nobodies the wiser.” 

But then the disembodied voice crackled…….“Yes we will take them.” He said, “We’ll put them in an isolation tank for now.” I was impressed they cared that much.

Stages…….

As writers, we always want to make sense of things by organizing the chaotic jumble of thoughts that are swimming around in our heads/and or hearts. Getting those onto the page is a different story. In our fantasies the words flow freely. Most of the time this doesn’t happen. My Dad used to paint watercolor, and I think probably the creative process of that is somewhat similar. I am sure he had an idea in his mind of what the finished product would look like. What my mom would think was beautiful many times ended up with a big black “X” across it, tossed in the garbage. Ending up with something not sounding ridiculous and trite to our inner ears is somewhat of a miracle. But I digress…..

I needed to get away for at least a few days and we made arrangements to stay right on the beach in Monterey, near Cannery Row, the inspiration of many of John Steinbeck’s writings. Usually, I find my rhythm of peace right away on the ocean. This time it took a day. It concerned me, because I felt maybe I just wouldn’t get there at all. The second day it all changed. Thankfully. We had 4 wonderful days of great meals, walking for miles and blessedly cool weather with the sun breaking through the coastal fog most days. We went to the Monterey Bay Aquarium which was packed with families and kids jockeying for position at the viewing windows, but it’s massive enough we saw everything we wanted to see. Once again, I was overwhelmed with God’s imagination. I mean, just the jellyfish alone!

It was just what we both needed.

I continue to deal with the stages of grief at the loss of my brother. I am still kind of in the disbelieving phase of settling into this new reality of being the last of my original family left standing. It’s a strange new world. Part of navigating through grief is the self-evaluation of asking the questions: Did I love enough……Did I love at all…..Did I tell them I did…..When was the last time I told them I loved them……or hugged them? Why can’t I remember? Part of that is normal. Endless recriminations about what I did or didn’t do is not. I rest in the many years of memories we all shared together. And there are many.

As I was writing this, I remembered a snatch of a Bible verse: “Strengthen what remains.” And right on the heels of that was another thought: “Love who remains.” That I can do. And who remains is God, who is always present, and that also includes myself and the loved ones around me. And the lessons we can all relearn from loss, (mine or anyone else’s.)

Call more, stop by more, pay attention more, help more, hug more, love more. Even if you get rebuffed or rejected. In essence, love more like Jesus loved. I want to get to the end of my life with as few regrets as possible. That’s my goal anyway.

All this blather to say. I am moving forward, I am sifting through feelings and thoughts and memories and learning to adjust to this new reality. The best thing we can all do is the best we can. Live life. This morning was peace. It was picking the neighbors’ tomatoes, watering before the heat sets in, watching E. work on the boat, feeding the cats double just because they will be very hot outside today. Breathing in the miracle that is life. I close with this thought, in Heaven there are no regrets. And Revelation 21:4, He will wipe every tear from their eyes and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning or crying nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Book recommendations: One of the books I am reading right now is called Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy by Eric Metaxes. It’s not a book you sail through, (there are 20 pages of notes alone) but it’s very inspirational. (And historically accurate) A brilliant theologian, Bonhoeffer should be as well-known as Anne Frank, or Schindler but sadly, he’s not. He died in prison after being arrested by the Nazis for among other things, trying to rid the world of Hitler. Another I’m just about to start is The Collected Regrets of Clover. Jury is still out on that one.

I continue to feed my brother’s two feral cats. They come out from their hiding places immediately and are very grateful to get the food. I know he would be happy to see that.

Until next time, thank you for the therapy, dear readers if you are still with me. I hope you know that I pray for every one of you. Lori

Miscellaneous

Lassoing thoughts, figuring out what to keep

What to release

The writing process, even the phrase 

Taunts. “As if,” my own voice echoes 

Mocks. 

If no one is there to read, is it still a story? 

Because some things are too beautiful 

Not to share. 

Summer will always be 

The cool of the garden hose held over our heads

And “Let’s make skeletons!” 

Plopping down to feel the warmth of the driveway

Getting up to compare imprints

Purple Koolaid when it was still innocent

Remnants of powder on the cold metal rim.

Summer deliciousness. 

The hope of a warped chime from two blocks away

Rushing inside to get a thin dime

Missiles and Dreamsicles

Stubbed toes and hard-baked plastic flipflops

(Called thongs in those days)

All innocence must be kept like a treasure. 

And not forgotten. 

Writers are the guardians of recorded time.

It’s morning, and it’s God’s day.

I sip coffee and it tastes like gratitude.

I recognize for the umpteenth time

this is a sacred moment.

I stoop over the keyboard, the cat having stolen my chair.

I grant her a moment too.

Just like God has granted me so many over the years.

And this is present day and I summon the past in the form of a real

book. I know there are plenty of people like me,

who shun electronic readers.

Who know that reading is a feast for the senses.

The feel….smell….sound…..of a page.

The look of a particular font

even the thickness of the paper, all conjured up to make it

an experience.

Even before the first word is read.

More 5-7-5

Stuff of Dreams

To a book lover

All Never-ending stories

Like eternity

A book lover’s dream

One in the works, two in queue

In the wings, rapture.

Old friends these bookmarks

One with tiny cat teethmarks

Fondly remembered.

How to explain joy?

For the bibliophile…

The book never ends.

Cat Chronicles: Enter Sydney

In my last post, Briggs had entered our home. Though the loss of Buster and Rocky was still keenly felt, the antics of a comical little kitten worked like a balm to heal both of our hearts. But it was time to find him a playmate. I scoured the internet and found a woman who needed to find homes for the feral kittens she had rescued.  We made an appointment to go see them. They had all just recovered from been spayed and neutered.

The owners cats were curiously watching us from the stairs as proceeded to the “kitten rooms.” The girls were in one room and the boys in the other. We were there two hours, going from one room to another. Buster was a talky fellow so I was looking for one with the same qualities. Among the males were Tony, a solid light orange, and Frankie, a flame point Siamese mix, and his brother who could have been a twin, Sammy. It was so hard to choose, but in the end Sammy was the one who stole my heart. His fur was as soft as a bunny and his eyes a brilliant blue, and a little bit crossed at times. He kept coming up to me wanting to play. I fell in love.

Sammy became Sydney and we couldn’t wait to get him home to introduce him to his new brother. We still have a picture of Sydney in his carrier and Briggs peering in at him. If he could have talked I’m sure he would have said, “C’mon open up already, I’m ready to play!”

I think there was one hiss and that was all. Sydney was used to being around lots of cats and he was undaunted. And Briggs was so happy to have a playmate he didn’t know what to do. He played so hard he literally panted like a dog. Several times we had to rescue poor Sydney by removing Briggs from the scene so Syd could recover. Sydney was a scrapper though. He got his digs in as well.

And so our little family was complete again. Briggs was even-tempered around people and loved everyone just like Rocky and Sydney just wanted me. He was bottle fed so he was used to human handling and actually preferred that to anything else. It was like my prayers were answered. My niece had been born around that time and I was missing her terribly. I was 12 hours away by car and an hour and 45 minutes by plane and I needed my arms filled.

Sydney became my baby. He was totally content to lay upside down in my arms for hours. The Siamese came out in his meow which sounded very much like an infant crying. People would hear him in the background and often ask if there was a baby in the house.

It was as if God had answered my prayer by filling my arms and heal my heart that was missing our Lauryn, the first ever baby in our family.