It was a dream. But the kittens are real.
I found them, one at a time, out in the new yard, in the driving, cutting rain. One's about 5 weeks old, very tiny, and feisty, thinks he's big. The other's about 3 weeks old, way too small to be out there, almost too small to be seen, just a puff.
I bring them into my daughter's house, one at a time, out of the pouring rain and away from the danger of being swooped up by a hawk or freezing to death in the cold. They get fed, dried, then tussle and tumble a little before falling asleep, unaware for now of the danger they face. Whose are they? We cannot keep them, can we?
I am a visitor to this house, a house in great turmoil and pain. I'm trying to deliver some peace, some Way back to home-ness for the people who live inside. The kittens have appeared like some great responsibility not taken. The dears. The pain of abandonment. Their lives. THEIR LIVES.
I am leaving, and leaving behind my prayers for this house, these people, constant prayers that never end.
Please, you who live here: I beg you, take care of these kittens. They are yours, I have come to believe.
Sarah, I am so happy to have found you here; again you bring peace and loveliness into a harsh world.
ReplyDeleteI've missed you and hope life continues to bring you opportunities to learn and to stretch spiritually.
You have given so much of your insight and wisdom in the past--I hope to discover more of it in this new place.
I wish you peace.
I do hope your prayers or wishes come true here, but I, being of a more - shall we say, "sour" - turn of mind notice that kittens and children and other defenseless things - which can't fight back - don't often do too well in homes where the big kids are at odds.
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