Assorted Stuff

Kitty is at the vet and has, by this point, lost his manhood to the knife. He was, if I say so myself, quite the manly little kitten. This did not save him from his fate though, as his hormones exhibited themselves in smells and off the wall behavior. Part of me regrets losing the hormone inspired mad rushes through the house and random attacks on one of the large cats. The larger part of me is thrilled that he will cause less odor in our home. I have named him Kitty simply because I have called him "kitty-kitty" ever since we rescued him from the outside world. He was a wee tabby wandering around the neighborhood. Plenty of spunk. Not afraid of anyone. But in need of food and shelter in the winter cold. I took him in for a "visit", fell head over heels in love with him and he became our third cat. Two adopted and one rescued from the streets AND one other wonderful feline creature who I am fostering. What a beautiful orange cat he has become and sweet as sugar. His new owners will pick him up Friday. I am happy he has a good home. I have known him since he was a kitten. My son adopted him and decided a year or so later that he could not keep him. Put him outside and...well you know the  rest of the story. I started feeding him outside and then the weather got cold and the rains came and he, Garfield, found himself in a temporary home. We cannot do four grown cats. His adoption papers are intact and the woman who runs that agency has waited patiently for good parents for this awesome creature. She found the home. I will let him go. I will cry. He is worth it.

Hubby is in the psych ward at the hospital. It is not uncommon for him to require hospitalization. His depression runs deep. Medications lose their effectiveness. He is 67 years old. Nothing seems to be working for him. I think I know ways he could help himself but I am not clinically depressed or, in his case, profoundly depressed. It is not my place to assume I know what he could do to help himself. If I had such knowledge it would be of little worth. My husband has to desire a change, be willing to accept extreme discomfort, make significant changes and, after all is said and done, there is no guarantee any of that would make a difference. I cannot conceive of what he and others like him experience on a daily basis. I am thoroughly versed on the role of a caretaker. Neither position is enviable but there is a huge difference between his situation and mine. I can take a break from it all. I can visit with friends, go to church, think of diversions. He cannot. You may argue that I am severe in the concrete statement, "He cannot!" I am speaking from our experience as a couple covering 17 years now of having this depression in our lives. Slowly and steadily my husband has lost ground to this mental illness. Slowly and steadily I have regrouped and regrouped to make room for the changes in our home and the needs of my husband and of myself. I have ceased believing that I will walk through the door and there will have been a miracle recovery. I believe that God can do what He chooses. I have simply ceased to anticipate a miraculous intervention or maybe the miraculous intervention is that God is in this battle with us. Maybe the miracle is that I have stayed and my husband has not driven me away with other behaviors much more difficult to endure in the long run. Maybe the miracle is that serving  God where He places me is my reward and my cup of joy. Maybe I am simply a conduit for God to reach my husband and allow him to see love in action. Maybe this is a miracle on a grand scale given my lack of patience and willfulness. Do I love my husband? Yes. I love him because I adore Christ and Christ loves my husband as much as He loves me. Our world today does not accept servitude to God's will in difficult situations as a joyful choice. It is difficult and I do not do it well but I push on and I am happy. I am happy that I can be of service to my God and to my husband. It isn't about fairness or who deserves what. Who would I be without my God? What do  I deserve if not the opportunity to serve Him at home and as I  go about my day? Yes, it is difficult. Heart rending at times. I fall and become full of self-pity. I struggle with life not being fair by my standards. But, at the end of each  struggle I get up, shake off the dust, call out to God to grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change and to change the things I can and to have the wisdom to the difference. There is an old song, "There's Within My Heart A Melody,Jesus Whispers Sweet and Low. Fear Not I Am With You, Peace Be Still In All of Life's Ebb and Flow!"