The Perfect Cat

13 years ago, I lived in Hawaii. I had only been married for 3 years and my husband’s job had already taken me to Alaska, Las Vegas, and now Hawaii.  I had not seen my family in years and the loneliness and heartbreak from missing them was overwhelming.  Keith was working as a tour helicopter pilot on the island of Maui.  We were grateful for this job, but tours meant that he was required to work holidays.  It is one thing to miss your family during the holidays; it is entirely another thing to be all alone for the holidays.  Newly moved, no job, no friends, no family, and for the day…no husband.  It was the ache of loneliness, mixed with pain and frosted with grief. 

We were living in an apartment that did not allow pets, but I had it in my head that a cat would solve my problems.  After visiting the shelter a number of times just to "pet the kitties," I called my landlord.  She was a very sweet woman and when she heard my lonely heartbroken sobs, she caved.  She gave me permission to get a pet. 

I marched right back to the shelter and within minutes I made my selection, I just had to get my husband on board with my plan.  He finally relented and came with me to the shelter.  My cat of choice was a beautiful three year old tortoise shell colored cat that looked like a Maine Coon.  She was enormous, fluffy, and oh so lovely.  She crawled into our laps, purred, and cuddled – exactly what I had in mind. 

There was paperwork, the approval, the check, and then she was all mine.  We brought her home and within two days, we knew we did not have the same cat we had found at the shelter.  She refused to sit in our laps.  She was skittish, bordering on terrified, and hid under the bed or in the bathroom.  The only way I could get near her was to pet her in the bathroom while she was eating.  Within two days she graced us with a neat trick of urinating right in the middle of our bed.  Needless to say, we were quite disillusioned with our pet choice.  We called Keith’s mom to complain about our bad kitty.   She was very quick to point out that our “wayward wild cat” might be ill.  That had not dawned on us at all.  We took her into the vet only to find out she had a bladder infection.   The treatment plan included an overnight stay with the vet, a prescription and special food.  $150.00 later the vet handed the cat back to my husband with a smirk, “So much for free cats.” 

We loved her through her sickness and she got more comfortable in our home, but she never allowed us to hold her or cuddle her; that trick was performed in the shelter only.  Apparently Maine Coon kitties do not ever allow people to hold them.  They will, however, sit beside you all day but not ever in your lap. Never. Ever. Never, ever! 

My kitten has traveled with me from Hawaii to California and we have taken her with us everywhere we have lived.  She has helped me through so many lonely seasons and times.  She helped me get past that painful loneliness. She was not the cat I envisioned. She did not meet my needs the way I wanted her to. I had an idea in my head about what my cat should do in order for me to feel better. My ideal cat was never realized. However, my needs, in spite of her refusal to follow my program, were in fact, met.  My cat did for me exactly what I needed to be done, just not in the way I had wished and hoped for. 

Isn’t that just the way life works sometimes?  I look to God to fix our current situation and I have an idea and a plan in my head.  My plans have not come to fruition, but my needs are being met nevertheless.  I am looking forward to the day when I can look back on this time in my life and see how fully I have been cared for.  In my mind, I know it is happening even though the eyes of my heart do not always see it right now.   I look to the example of my cat and realize that what I want might not be what I need.  God knew what I needed to soothe the lonely pain I was feeling and He knows what I need right here and right now. 

Living Comopletely Undone ~ Catherine

Artistic Flair

In my 20’s, I became what is known as “artistic” ~ with all of the good and bad that this label conjures up.  I have always been crafty, but my horizons expanded and I began to do crafty things with blown glass, clay, and handmade paper.  I was beginning to have my work in shops and shows.  I was having fun and really loved this time in my life.

Then my life took a different turn. I married a helicopter pilot and my life became about travel and adventure.  I always pined for my art and in my time off you could often find me volunteering to teach ceramics to older ladies. They were always good about letting me do a few projects of my own.

When we lived in Hawaii, I began making jewelry.  I am not passionate about jewelry making; I never have been.  I make gifts and it keeps my hands busy, but it is not really my heart’s desire.

Now I am a mom and my gallery hopping days are far behind me, at least for now.  My dreams are not gone, though they are very different.  These days my art still comes out and there are moments I am just as proud of my creations as the old days.  I love to make character pancakes and have learned to manipulate the medium with my artistic flair.  When complete, I place my creations proudly on the table hoping my boy can guess what I made.  This week I wielded a Quetzalcoatlus (a flying dinosaur) and an Angry Bird in one meal.  This past Christmas, I specialized in HO cakes.

My gifts really shine when it comes time to making our Halloween costumes.  I take cardboard, paint, duct tape, pipe cleaners…. and create like crazy.  I have made Batman, Robin, and Bat Girl; a whale; Ghost Busters complete with flashing light proton pack; and this year Joshua was an Ice Watermelon Cannon from our favorite video game Plants vs. Zombies.

Life did not turn out the way I had ever planned.  There have been so many unexpected traveled roads, but I have come to realize that my artistic days are not gone. I am still creating. My palette has grown so much larger and more important. I may work in dough, cardboard, and duct tape making creations for my audience of one, but I never fail to remember that I am helping to sculpt my boy into a Godly man. My work is always on display in the galley of the world for all to see who wish to look.  This “work” will endure and remain far beyond my life as it echoes down through time.

What artist could ask for more?

  Posts from the Trailer Park ~ Catherine 

Laudromat

It has been 6 months since we packed up our home and started on this adventure.  6 months of living in 400 square feet of temporary housing.  6 months of not knowing when this will end.  6 months of fighting with my teeny tiny kitchen.   6 months since we packed away my washer and dryer.  It has been hard for me to choose to pack up all of my stuff and take a 25 year step backwards to a dormitory style of living, which includes the Laundromat.

Laundromats and I do not get along.  I am the kind of person who plays by the rules. I attempt to be courteous to others and I am always hoping others will treat me in kind.  I think there are rules for behavior when other people’s time is at stake.  My #1 Laundromat rule is (because it has happened to me twice) DO NOT STEAL THE DRYERS!  Who comes into a Laundromat where all the washers are busy and fills up all of the dryers with no regard to the washing person? 15 years ago was the first time this happened to me and I still talk about it.  It is remembered as the “Horrible, Awful, No Good Day.”  Then a few months back, it happened again. 

Who has this done to them twice in one lifetime?? 

So, with this enormous chip on my shoulder is there any hope for God to use my laundry time for good?  Well, yes…

6 months ago I would have told you that no good can come from laundry day.  But I am here to tell you, it has become one of my favorite days of the week.  Joshua and I begin our day by going out into the town to the grocery store and the doughnut shop, getting all that we need for the morning and visiting with people all the way.  We then head for the laundry room which is right by the mobile home park office. 

Almost as soon as we arrive, the gathering begins.  I love visiting with the park staff and all the people that are stopping by the office.  No two days are alike.  The office is in the middle of the park and people stop as they are driving by or walk in for a visit.  Often the manager’s family is around.  It has turned into a great opportunity to meet people.

Joshua has made friends so he can play while I work.  I have had the opportunity to turn casual acquaintances into the beginnings of friendship.  Life is about people and relationships.  I am learning that if I yield to God He can turn something as dreadful as using a Laundromat into a wonderful blessing where lives can become interwoven.  I am trusting Him with the messy bits of my existence and looking forward to what we do next.

  Posts from the Trailer Park ~ Catherine

My Mothers Kitchen

Growing up, our home was captivating.  We lived on a farm in Massachusetts in a log cabin.  By December, there was often snow on the ground and our home was a wonderland.  The trees would become heavy-laden with snow and we would watch out of frosted windows for the red cardinal to show up bouncing from bough to bough.  The chickadees would fight over the suet hanging just beyond the window pane.  Our wood stove and fire place would pump all of their warmth and light into our home.   The wood stove was in the kitchen and my mother had positioned an old rocking chair right beside it.  How I loved to be in my mother’s kitchen.  I would rock there as she conjured up the most comforting of foods. 

We talked in the kitchen.  The subject did not always matter; Birds, bees, boys - whatever teenagers and their mothers talk about. Our lives were shared right there amidst pots, pans, and dishes.  She had an 8 track on top of the refrigerator and from October on, sounds of Christmas would fill the warm air.  Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole would croon to us while we talked.  Laughing, dancing, and singing were all part of our days.

Our lives were far from perfect.  Dad had left us, we were very poor, and school was a hard place for me to be.  From the outside it would seem like I was one of those kids who had no refuge and no place to be safe, but I had plenty.  My mother wrapped me in so much good, that many days I was insulated from much of the pain.

It is not surprising that right there on that kitchen floor, by the wood stove and rocker, with music flowing from the eight track singing, “give them all, give them all, give them all to Jesus, shattered dreams, wounded hearts, broken toys” that I asked Jesus to take my pain and help me, to come and live in my heart, and never leave me.  I knew at that moment, without anyone telling me, that the gates of heaven opened up for me and I would never be the same.

I was fortunate that God gave me a mother with such a gift for creating love and warmth.  She was the one to hold me and listen to me, to teach and guide me. In the following years, our conversations were often about God and living a Christian life.  She discipled me right there while cooking dinners and washing dishes.

In the years that followed, I strayed from the warmth and comfort of my mother’s kitchen and from the lessons she taught me there.  No matter what choices I made, she and the Lord were always there.  They never left me and always believed in me. In hind sight, I am grateful she took advantage of what little she had and the time available to make such a difference that has endured throughout my life. 

Proverbs 31:28   Her children rise up and call her blessed.

Posts from the Trailer Park ~ Catherine

Grace

 

I have been struggling with the word Grace.  I have heard about God's Grace my whole life in sermons, songs, and many platitudes.  I have always wondered, ‘What is Grace’???  My new pastor defined it recently as, “The unconditional love given to those who don’t deserve it.” Even with this definition in hand, the personal meaning of Grace has eluded me until just recently when I was given a real life example of Grace.

My friend Pamela and her family have opened their home to my family ever since we moved from Clovis.  On a moment’s notice, she has let me spend the night in order to raid my storage unit.  These trips have been a wonderful blessing in and of themselves.  On our last family trip to visit, Pamela offered me her home for the Thanksgiving holiday.  She was taking her family to Germany and the house would be empty, so she could see no reason for us to stay in our trailer on a holiday when her home was available. 

This of course sounded great to us, but we had no concept of how kind hearted a gift they were offering us.  As we spent time alone in Pamela’s home, my family became more and more aware of how we had been given something special and unique.  I cooked in her kitchen, we bathed, ironed, cleaned etc. When something was needed, be it a pen or pet cleaner, the hostess was not there to help me find it.  She opened her home to me in a way that I would not normally access it.  I was overwhelmed with the trust and generosity my family had been given.

As the days passed I began to realize this was not going to be a fair trade.  No thank you note, gift or any good deed I could think of would repay this act of kindness.  I had done nothing to earn or deserve such a blessing.  We’ve been good friends, but this was something so much more.  My heart became almost heavy with the amount of gratitude I felt and I knew I was going to have to accept this gift, simply accept it. 

It then dawned on me that this is Grace.   I hear the word and now I have a clear picture with the emotions to match.  Before me is a real life example illustrating how Grace feels. Jesus came to this earth and sacrificed his life so I may have a relationship with His Father.  There is no way to earn His affection, I cannot repay His sacrifice and I will never deserve what He did for me on Calvary. Grace is accompanied by a very deep, heavy and wonderful feeling. Grace is a gift and all I can do is allow my heart to feel the weight of gratitude.  I know I am going to accept this gift, simply accept it.

Thank you Pamela.

  Posts from the Trailer Park ~ Catherine

October

 

October holds such sweet memories for me.  Pictures, laughter, friends and family mixed together in memories that are heavy laden with satisfaction.  I have years of some of the fondest fall memories imaginable.  In the past, my son and I have spent the entire month planning unique family costumes and then executing their creation. Our family has, in seasons past, shopped on line for karaoke music and gathered decorations for the most wonderful party of our year.  We have taken hayrides, stumbled through corn mazes, and strolled through pumpkin patches.  I usually cook an amazing array of fall foods, which have included cranberry pumpkin bread, butternut squash soup, cranberry pork, pumpkin rolls, and Chai Tea.  With the heat of the summer leaves, my kitchen came alive with the warmth and the smells of the season. My fall decorations were only slightly less ornate than Christmas, bringing them out signified the beginning of my holidays. For many years, most Octobers have been this way for me.

Not this year.

Besides the most obvious changes of not having my home, friends and the connections that have accompanied it, our lives took yet another twisted detour. My husband became quite ill about six weeks ago.  We spent the month in and out of emergency rooms and ended up at UC Davis hospital. My husband spent 4 days with some of the best doctors in the country trying to diagnose the problem, with no results to show for it all. The stress of juggling our home schooling schedule, the needs of our pets, our lack of income, and the enduring mystery of my husband’s ailment had taken a heavy toll on my little family. 

October came and went for us with little to no celebration.  We drove right past all of the pumpkin patches and corn mazes. Fortunately my son and I worked on his costume very early, but there wasn't any time for me to join him this year.  I don't really like to cook in my little trailer kitchen on a normal day, so with this hectic schedule we were lucky to have Pizza Lunchables and snack pack pudding. This year, there were no fall colored plates, no twinkling lights on the mantel amidst sunflowers and cattails, and no pumpkins decorating our front steps. As the green of summer faded away, so did the hopes for the rich joy we had possessed in seasons past.

But we still possessed each other.  No thwarting of fall traditions can shake my thankfulness.  Although we did not get a diagnosis for my husband, we were very grateful he was released from the hospital the day before Halloween so my son was able to trick or treat with his new friends.  This also allowed for our school party where my son had great fun making spiders and playing games.  My husband is doing better and we have now been "hospital free" for three weeks.  We spent a lot of time together and my son was a trooper with the schedule changes.  He was a great caregiver, kept up on his schoolwork, and really did not complain about the things he was missing.  He seemed mindful of the small acts of God’s grace. I found this impressive and humbling coming from a 6 year old. October did not turn out the way I had planned. I am thankful, nonetheless, for the blessings that came our way in these circumstances. 

Our family made it through on promises. Promises we found in God’s word. 

I have heard your prayers and seen your tears; I will heal you.  2 Kings 20:5

Do not be afraid, stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today.  Exodus 14:13

We have allowed the word of God to comfort us through some very dark days.  He was our strength when we had none.  It was God who calmed our fears and saw through our tears. He is not finished with this yet, but we are standing with Him and anticipating what He is doing in our lives. I trust my God to be with me until it is finished. This has been a very different time for us.  I have been learning to let go of many of my traditions and plans in order to live the life I am given.  God has met all of my needs. This year I have let go of things I value, only to find my heart full of His Grace.  

 

Posts from the Trailer Park ~ Catherine

Shooting Star

When you see a shooting star it is only for a brief moment.  Your eyes widen, inhaling a deep quick breath, while reaching for the arm of your companion in order to share the wonder.   The star is quick, surprising, and joyful and then it is gone.

I arrived here in Angels Camp broken, crushed in spirit.  I cried out to God in my loneliness.  I have needed to move so many times. I’ve had to leave behind all that has been familiar, comfortable, and friendly.  I always arrive in a new place a bit frightened by thoughts of continued loneliness and rejection.   Each new place has its own characteristics from embracing to hostile. What would this new place be like?  Will they get to know me?  How long is it going to take before I have non-cyber people in my life once again? As soon as I whispered this prayer, my shooting star appeared.

Sandy, in her wide brimmed hat, Hawaiian shirt, and crocs, rolled her motorized wheel chair into my life as soon as I arrived.  She lived three sites down from us and had a large bag of carrots to give away.  I was her intended recipient. Over the next few days she appeared in my yard any time I was outside.  She probed me for information, looking for a need she could help fill.  She began giving me gifts.  I would leave for the afternoon and return to find gifts of plants or food on my patio.

Sandy brought laughter with her and left joy behind.  My son Joshua truly enjoyed her company.  He would wait with anticipation for her visits.  He would peek over the bushes for any stirring from her home.  When she came, he would gladly offer to bag up any soda bottles or cans we had to give her so she could turn them in for extra money.  Sandy wheeled around the neighborhood with a friend who also had an electric chair.  Joshua stood in the road as if he were officiating a drag race.  He loved to see who would get to him first and this left all three of them in giggles.

Sandy was my shooting star and you are the arm I am reaching out to share the wonder with.  Her heart gave out a few weeks ago and she passed away very suddenly.  Just like a star, she was gone. By writing this I am attempting to give honor to the best gift she ever gave me, friendship. She came as an answer to prayer to acclimate me to a new environment.  I will be eternally grateful for her kindness and laughter.  She will forever be a reminder for me to be kind to whoever God puts in my path for however long they are there. 

Posts from the Trailer Park ~ Catherine