Six Months of a Death Remembered

It was six months ago, to the date and the day of the week exactly, that my mother died.

It has been a hard day, not because I am still wrapped in acute grief, because I'm not.  But because the body remembers what the mind seeks to forget and I have been weary and foggy all day.  My mind refuses to concentrate on details, like turning on blinkers and fastening seatbelts. Like recognizing that I might just be hungry.  Like remembering to turn off a light.

I have been griefwalking all day.

But six months have passed and, as I said earlier, I feel like I'm on the brink of something; a something I know not what. Perhaps today will be the turning point and I will begin to see what lies ahead.
Until then....

De Profundis

Psalm 130

Out of the depths I cry to You, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice.
Let Your ears be attentive to my voice in supplication.
If You, O Lord, mark iniquities, Lord, who can stand?
But with You is forgiveness, that You may be revered.
I trust in the Lord; my soul trusts in His word.
My soul waits for the Lord more than sentinels wait for the dawn.
More than sentinels wait for the dawn, let Israel wait for the Lord,
For with the Lord is kindness and with Him is plenteous redemption;
And He will redeem Israel from all their iniquities.

A Very Odd Thing

Today something odd happened.  I've had my share of odd happenings, so saying something odd happened means it was SOMETHING ODD!!!

What made it so odd was what happened to Bastet, one of the Royal Pair of Aby cats that allow me to live in their domain.  Basti is a little butterball of a cat with enough curiosity to, well, kill a cat. She was being her usual self, a little aloof but eating, drinking, sunning, sleeping. You know, normal cat things. As is her wont, she decided that perhaps a wee bit of petting might be in order, so she jumped on my lap.  I sort of absent-mindedly scritched her head and then my hand hit something rough.  I looked down and her face was covered in what looked like second-degree burns!

She didn't act like she was in pain but her face looked like raw meat in place.  So we hustled off to the vet who said she had never seen anything like it in her years of practice.

Now here's the odd part.  There wasn't anything burning in the house.  No candles.  No incense.  No fire.  No heater.  The only thing that I can think of was that I had a pot of soup boiling on the stove and she might have put her face near enough to get splashed.

But you'd think she might have made a sound if that had happened. Or acted hurt. Or something.

Nope, not a thing until I saw the absolutely horrendous burns.

Very very odd.

God, Give Me a Sign

I know that we aren't really supposed to ask God for signs. That trust thing and all.

But this morning, praying about something that has been on my list for nearly five months, I couldn't help myself.  I said, "God, please give me a sign that you have at least heard my prayer." I then pointed out to God, just in case God had forgotten, that even some of his great saints asked for signs.

I mentioned that Francis of Assisi opened the bible at random three times when he was first discerning his life work, looking for a sign of the path he should follow. And I pointed out that St. Francis Loyola asked for a sign when he was recuperating in the hospital from a war wound.  I even reminded God that I seemed to recall St. Francis Borgia asking for a sign as well.

All I wanted was some sort of sign that my prayer had been heard. I mentioned it would be lovely if I got an answer to this prayer, but I sort of figured that wasn't going to happen.

So I wanted a sign that at least the prayer itself had been heard.

And not one of those "Maybe it was a sign and maybe it wasn't" sort of things.  Like seeing a rainbow or having bird fly by the window.  I wanted someone more than flowers and hearts.

I wanted a sign. A real, honest-to-god sign that God had heard my prayer.

I got nothing. Not even one of those crappy "Could this be a sign or not?" things. So I went to the movie with a friend and forgot about the prayer.

When I got home, I did up the dishes and messed about for awhile. Then I noticed the light blinking on the answering machine. Since 99% of the people who want to talk to me use my cell if I don't answer the landline, I figured it was a sales call.  You know, one of those, "This is Rachel from credit cards services.  There is nothing wrong with your account, but this is your last chance to lower your credit rates" calls that I get despite having put my name on the no-call list.

But something made me stop and listen to it anyway. It was a call from someone I had never in 1000 years expected to hear from on a Sunday afternoon.  I had to listen to the message three times before it sank in...you see, it was the sign that God had been listening to my prayer.

The prayer still isn't answered and I am no closer to knowing when or even if it will be answered.

But at least I know that it's been heard.

Sunday Gratitude and Answers to Prayer

On an overcast Sunday, I am grateful for:

1. The fact that I am (sort of) caught up with deadlines. I think I see light.
2.  I find watching the squirrel annoy the cats to be highly entertaining.
3.  I got a new Netflix film this week, after finally deciding I wasn't going to watch the one I had.
4.  We had a huge rain storm, which gave the plants a dosing, but it didn't herald a week of rain like it often does.
5. A friend of mine who went in for numerous lumps in her breast learned they were all benign.

And the prayer report thus far for July:
Yes--6 with 2 of them that aren't cut and dried.  But they seem mostly yes.
No--5
No answer--9

And so it goes.