Comfort and Love

Typing can be very difficult when one had a cat who insists upon possessing your lap--and arm as well. Throughout the day, the Russian Blue draped himself across her. Most of the time he would start on the lap, but slowly--so subtly it was barely noticed--his body oozed upward to her arms.

Feeling the ache of his weight as she struggled to communicate through written word, her arm became numb. Putting him on the floor gave her the opportunity to shake off the numbness and get on with her work. Then the process would begin all over again. He moved to the couch beside where she worked. He oozed onto the arm of her chair. Slowly sliding, he gained the lap--then regained her chest and arm.

Reaching to put him down again, his purr increased as he slowly opened him eyes, looked into hers, almost closed his before looking lovingly into hers again--the equivalent of a kitty "I love you." As she bent her head, shaking it in defeat, he reached his head up and rubbed his jaw against her neck while kneading her shoulder with his paws--kitty kisses.

Taking a break, she stroked his soft, velvet fur. He tentatively licked her hand and settled into her arms with a purr of contentment. His world was secure. He knew she loved him, would protect him from harm, and take care of his needs.

His life had not always been easy. Only a year before his first human and canine companions had died--in the room with him. In the rush to get his human to medical care he had been left behind--no food, no water, no one to care for him for days. When someone finally returned for him, he was near death himself.

Then she came into his life. She cradled his body in soft towels and put drops of water in him mouth; slowly massaging his throat until he could swallow. Eventually she added nourishment. She stroked him was cool, damp cloths, and pulled him back from the brink of death to life with her. As he slowly healed and gained strength, he showed his thanks and adoration by showering her with his loving affection and presence. She was his and he was hers.

As she sat reading and typing at the computer, tears slowly coursed their way down her face. She read of another mother whose son was injured while playing football. Chad suffered a head injury during the game and had to be sent on Life Flight to the nearest city where he now lay in a coma. The doctors gave little hope for him--his healing was in God's hands--all they could do had been done--now it was time to pray and wait.

The next day would be his seventeenth birthday. She thought of her own son; the preciousness of life; those she loved who had been through the trial of illness and injury--some recovering--others not. Tears began to pour down her cheeks.

The weight of the Russian Blue shifted as he reached a paw to her face and rubbed his head against her jaw. The gentleness of his purr reached her heart and reminded her that just because we come to the brink of life after this earthly life--we do not always cross. Sometimes God heals in the earthly plane--sometimes in the spiritual. A Latin Proverb: Dum spiro, spero, which translates: While I breathe,I hope. As long as there is breathe there is hope.

Loving God who gives us the very air we breathe, we trust you. With every breath there is proof that you exist and provide for our needs. We thank you for all you do. We rest in the assurance of your love, comfort, and care. So be it. Amen.

Today, November 8th is the 17th birthday of Chad Stover. Lift him in your prayers as he rests in God's care. Comfort and surround his family.