The Kitten Who Followed Us Home

Two nights ago, after the heat of the day had left a little, Vince and I took Juno for a walk. There's a neighborhood across the road from our apartment complex, and we often walk her around that loop because it's more interesting and well lit than our apartment loop. As we walked, we heard the distinct sound of a kitten crying. It's little mews cut through the warm night air, straight to my heart. (Anyone who knows me knows what a sucker I am for animals, kitties in particular, despite my allergy.)

Vince told me to go look for it if I wanted, so after about 3.5 seconds of deliberation I did. I used the flashlight app on my phone and searched the tall grass that lined the road. I walked until I couldn't hear the kitten anymore, and assumed it had heard me and quit crying because it was scared, but Vince told me it was back the other way. I looked, and looked, and then there he was. A little gray and white face, staring up into the light mewing his little heart out. I tentatively put my hand down, and he moved toward me, so I picked him up.

Vince and I talked about it, and after much back and forth on both our parts, we agreed that he would walk Juno home, and I would see if I could get the kitten to go back the way it came. I put him back in the tall grass and walked away. Immediately I heard those little mews and looked back. I'd walked almost completely across the road. His little head popped out of the grass, and he bounced its way across the road to where I was...where he promptly climbed up onto my tennis shoe and sat. He then stood, turned, and put his little paws on my leg.

I picked him up and started to cry. 

Vince and I are both allergic to cats, and we have Juno, who freaks out around other animals. I couldn't leave this kitten, who was so sweet, loving, and little alone in the dark by the road. I didn't know what to do.

I called Vince, and he said he would make up Juno's crate (which she hasn't used since Vince and I got married) for it, and we'd figure something out. Despite this, I put him back in the grass one more time, just in case it decided to go home, and walked a different way. Again, he popped out of the grass, and when I stopped he ran to me and sat on my shoe. I decided to walk home, and see what he would do. Of course, he followed me.

About halfway there, he started mewing again, so I picked him up and carried him home (despite my itchy arms and neck). Vince had Juno's crate lined with newspaper. We put him in there with tuna, water, a towel, and a homemade litter-box (a cardboard box and shredded newspaper). He ate a little, drank a little, and after being petted for a few minutes fell asleep.

At this point it's at least one in the morning. I posted pictures of the kitten all over the internet, hoping someone would want to adopt him. My friends Raina and Matt both saw him and started advertising for me, too. I went to sleep hoping I wouldn't get too attached to him, and hoping that we'd find a good home.

Luckily, we did. Well, Vince did. Sandie, my mother-in-law, had been talking about getting a cat for Vivian (our niece), and this one was just about the perfect age, and literally walked into our hands.

After a hasty breakfast, we made sure Juno had what she needed, made a travel box (complete with another towel, some nice, frayed yarn, and a ball with a bell in it) for the kitten, and drove over three hours to Sandie's house.

Vivian loved the kitten, and after we left, Sandie made a big box-house for him to stay in while he got used to his new home. Vivian named him Milo, and promised me she would take good, good care of her new kitten, who she loved very much.

Our plan for Monday had been: Wake up, eat breakfast, maybe go to Purdy's, rent a movie, work out. That drastically changed all because we made the small choice to help a helpless creature. Some might say it was just a cat, but it was a living, breathing, feeling thing that was asking for help. I believe, with all my heart, that we should all be willing to take those few extra steps to help where we can, whether it's a cat, a friend, a stranger, a pup...If we can, something in us tells us that we should. I'm so glad that Vince and I were able to help such a sweet kitten like Milo, and make Vivian happy in the process.

Salt of the Earth / Light of the World

On Wednesday, Dustin talked about The Beatitudes. I don't think he intended to, I think his aim was to share the verses that followed them. Regardless, he did share them, and hearing them spoke to something inside of me that yearns to be set free.

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when they revile and persecute you, and say all kinds of evil against you falsely for My sake. Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you." (Matt. 5:3-12)

Even as irregular as my church attendance has been over the course of my life, I'd heard these verses many, many times. When Dustin read them, and talked about them a little bit, I felt something in me--a set of preconceived notions that made it easy for me to live the way I've been living--start to crumble. 

I've called myself a follower of Christ since I was a child, since before I realized what it could possibly mean to follow in Christ's footsteps. At 27, I realize that I don't have it all figured out. I realize that I'll never have it all figured out. And I realize that, despite these two facts, I can still work hard toward living like Christ would have me live.

In each of the Beatitudes, the blessed are those people that are broken, or the people that seek out good. To me this says that the blessed are those that show awesome, crazy love; those that choose to love in exceptional ways by not retaliating, by showing mercy, by bringing peace; those that seek to improve the lives of others, rather than their own lives; those that are humble and selfless.

Dustin went on to talk about the following few verses (Matt. 5:13-16). These verses talk about how we are the salt of the earth. I've heard that for years, and never understood what it means, but Dustin's words shed some light it for me. A simplified version of what he said is, salt was a preservative. To be the salt of the earth is to preserve the earth. These verses also say that we are the light of the world. To be honest, I've always thought that we--people--were a little vain to think of ourselves as lights to the world, but I'd never before considered the fact that the light shining from within us isn't our own light, but God's light. That by living the life he calls us to live, and by living for Him, we're lights to the world. 

"Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven." (Matt. 5:16)

How does all this tie together? To be lights of the world we must do what we can to preserve the world, to love it, to tend to it and take care of it. God put us here, not because he hated this place ("For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son..." John 3:16), but rather because He loved it and He loved us. We're here to take care of it, to take care of each other. We're to tend to our gardens, our plots of land, our animals, and more importantly, our neighbors, our families, our friends, and our enemies. Blessed are the peacemakers...the pure in heart...the merciful...those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. 

It's easy to live your life for yourself. I do it every single day. It's much, much harder to live your life for something greater. To live your life in a way that may not yield instant gratification. In a way that may cause yourself some hardship. But our goal shouldn't be instant gratification. Our goal, my goal, should be doing what my heart tells me is right. To love despite conflict. To reach out and take those extra steps, those extra miles, that will show someone else--friend and foe--love. As always, I believe with my whole heart that Love is the key to everything.

A Gift to the World

My momma was born four days after Christmas--a gift to the world.

For as long as I can remember, she's been the person I go to whenever I need to talk. If I need help, if I'm excited and need someone to share that with, if I'm just bored and want to chat, she's the first person I call every single time. 

I've met very few people who can pour love out on people the way that she does without even trying. (My last blog was about another one of those few people.) I've watched her open her home and her heart to a number of people simply because they needed somewhere to stay, and she does it without a second thought. She gives, and gives, and gives, and if you try to give back, she doesn't quite know how to receive. Her joy comes from giving, and from loving, and to me, that's such a beautiful, beautiful thing.

I was very, very lucky to be raised by such a person. (Now, just so we're clear, I'm not discounting what an amazing dad I have! He did just as much to raise me and shape who I am, but this blog is about momma.) I grew up watching her love people...Dad, Joey, me. If my friends were over, she fed them, sometimes she clothed them, sometimes she made sure they had transportation. If dad, or Joey, or I needed something, she did everything in her power to make sure that thing was had as quickly as possible. My momma is a giver through and through, and she pours out her love on daddy, Joey, and me more than any person should be able to pour out love. 

I've made a lot of poor choices in my life, and despite those choices, mom never stopped loving and supporting me. If I disobeyed, she got angry, and kept loving me. If I didn't take her advice, she got sad, and kept loving me. If I argued with her, she argued back, and kept loving me. The greatest thing she's done is to love, and to teach others, to teach me how to love. I hope that, someday, I can be as wonderful as she is...if she reads this, she's going to disagree with me, but that's OK, because everyone else will know how true these things are about her.

I've been told my whole life that I look like momma (I'm not as pretty as she is, but I'm glad to know I look like her some), but I hope that, as I grow, I can also be like her. I want to give likes she gives and love like she loves.

I love you, momma. 

Thank you for always being the most wonderful mother I could have ever asked for. 

Happy Mother's Day!

Sweetness and Light

Today my beautiful friend Tiffany went into surgery to have a tumor removed from her abdomen.

When I found out that Tiff had a tumor a few weeks ago, it didn't seem real. Surely someone so young, so wonderful, so good, couldn't have a tumor the size of a cantaloupe in her abdomen. She researched before she went to a doctor (who was absolutely horrible) and was sorely disappointed. (If I could hit that doctor right in the face, I would.) Then, because Tiff is also very motivated, and very smart, she researched more and went all the way to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota...that was yesterday. An hour ago she went into surgery...

I hate that it's taking a stint in the OR to make me write about her, but she's someone who deserves to be written about. She deserves to be recognized for the kind of person she is.

Tiff is the kind of person who loves wholly and completely. She's always thinking about the people around her, and she's quick to defend anyone she sees as being wronged. She always puts herself last and others first. She's also one of the most talented photographers, graphic designers, and artists that I know. To top it all off, she's completely beautiful in every way.

Tiffany is nothing except sweetness and light. She's the mother of the sweetest pitbull on the planet, Cash. She's an advocate for animal rights, and fights hard against breed prejudice. She's going into medicine. Her photography, drawings, paintings and digital designs are beyond phenomenal.

Whenever I've needed to talk about one of my many neuroses, she's been there to calm me down and encourage me. She pours out her love on others as if she has an unending supply...When I see the way she loves my brother, and the way that he loves her, it gives me hope. She loves so big that it seeps into every aspect of her life. As many wonderful attributes as Tiff has, the biggest and greatest is her heart and her unbelievable capacity to love.

I love the person that Tiff is, and I'm so incredibly thankful that she is a part of my life. I have faith that God has this in His hands, and has her in His.

If you'd like to read her thoughts on all of this, go to her Tumblr: The Awful, Terrible. She's also a beautiful writer.

Hijacked

In The Hunger Games trilogy, one of the main characters gets hijacked. This means he's brainwashed into believing untrue things about his own life, even things pertaining to his love interest. As he recovers, he starts making statements about his life, and then asking his love interest, "Real or not real?"

Sometimes, I feel like my brain has been hijacked. 
Something (an photograph, an event, a place, an article of clothing, a hairstyle, a phrase) will trigger a memory that is unpleasant, and rapidly that memory morphs into something much larger and nastier than it was. Other times, one of those triggers will become something completely fictional (this is the case most of the time), and that completely fictional, unreal, untrue event will become my primary focus.

Like I said. Hijacked.

I struggle with my self worth a lot. If you've ever read my blog before, you know that all too well. I struggle with it more than anyone else I know...or at least, I'm more vocal about it than anyone else I know. I know that my inability to love myself for who I am, for the person God made me to be, is why I struggle with all these triggers. I let those real and imaginary things determine my own self worth, and since I don't think my self worth is worth very much, those real and imaginary things dictate how I feel...which is generally like poo. 

I don't want to go off on a tangent about my self worth this time (well, anymore than I already have)... Rather, I wanted to write this blog because, to some degree or another, we all invent problems for ourselves. I invent problems with the way I look/act/am, with my relationship, with my husband's love for me (all of which are absurd), while other people invent other types problems for themselves. To a certain degree, I think it's part of human nature. But I also think that, once we're aware of this, we should actively seek to change our hearts and our minds in these matters. Hey, self, is this real or not real?

The world has enough problems (for us and those around us) without us inventing more.

At the end of the day, it's our job to choose what to believe about our own lives. We can believe the truths, or we can believe the invented parts, the tricks our brains play on us because of whatever issues we may have. We need to ask ourselves...I needy to ask myself, "Real or not real?"in all of these cases, and nine times out of ten, the problem, the issue, the big thing that's bringing me down, will cease to matter, because chances are (in my case anyway) it's not real. I have so many real things in my life...I think it's time to start focusing on those.

Self Worth (or I Want to Love Myself)

I've been thinking a lot lately (and by lately, I mean for the last almost-27 years or so) about my self worth. I know, I write about that a lot. I'm sure it's extremely annoying, but give me a moment with this thought.

In kindergarten I remember feeling like I wasn't as pretty as my best friend. She was popular, very pretty, blonde (yes, we were five, and it still mattered to me) and all the boys liked her. I was kind of her nerdy sidekick. She switched schools in middle school and I made a new best friend. This girl was more of a tom boy, still very pretty, and interesting. All the boys liked her, too, so yet again, I'm the nerdy sidekick. Despite the fact that both of these girls are beautiful (inside and out), loving, wonderful people, I let my own comparison of myself to their exterior traits color my self image pretty heavily.

I hoped that college was going to be different...but, because I had already sketched (in ink, mind you) an image of myself in my mind, I didn't make myself look at the guys I was dating in an objective way. I should have said: Does this boy care about my well being? Does this boy love Jesus? Does this boy respect me? Can I talk to this boy? Can I be me around this boy? But instead, I said: Does this boy like me? Do I think this boy is cute? And if the answer to both of those questions was yes, then I was all in. Just like that. It didn't matter how they treated me, as long as they were willing to be with me.

Needless to say, I've never really felt good enough. I've always felt subpar...I wasn't ever an athlete, even though I really did try to be. I never did gymnastics, or danced (except a brief stint in a children's Dance Studio which doesn't really count. I quit when they said "Do a cartwheel!"). I never played soccer or tennis or volleyball or softball. On the flip side, I've never been what you might call "a typical girl," meaning, I never really got into a lot of girly-things (shoes and nails and shopping), but I did get into nerd-things (books and movies and Sci-Fi television shows). I always half-envied the girls who so easily were feminine and wore high-heels to every occasion effortlessly. I never mastered the art of "fixing" my hair. I can straighten it...I can braid it...I can let it dry and hope for the best. I was never really nerd enough to hold my own in a conversation with a true Star Trek or Star Wars fan. I've always just been kind of caught in the middle...For over a quarter of a century, this as been riding around on my shoulders.

For over a quarter of a century, I've believed that I was living in the land of mediocrity.

I don't want to trick myself into believing that I live there anymore.

You all (probably) know the story of how my husband and I came to be what we are. We became friends, which rapidly became a romantic relationship, which even more rapidly turned into a marriage. I won't go over that again (even though I could easily write about that part of my life every day and never get tired of it!), but I want to touch on a huge turning point in my life that has begun to help me move away from this ugly little monster riding around on my shoulders.

Vince is my husband, my best friend, my confidant, my self-esteem booster, and from time-to-time he has to lay down the lay and metaphorically whip me into shape. I've had friends my whole life tell me not to feel less than worthy. They said I was a great person, and I appreciated everything they said...but it never really sunk in. I think it's because of how very close Vince and I are, but when he tells me these things, I can't help but really listen. 

I won't try and quote him, because he's told me so many wonderful, encouraging things, but I do want to try and share what he's shared with me, just in case someone else out there suffers with feeling less-than-worthy.

There is only one of me...only one of you. Because there are no copies, you can't compare yourself to anyone else. Everyone has issues, everyone has great qualities, everyone has flaws, everyone has fears, everyone has insecurities, but at the end of the day, we are all unique, one-of-a-kind creatures. 

To try and change that, to try and make oneself like someone else only works to belittle the being that you are! I can try all day to be more like someone else, but someone, and probably multiple someones,  love the person that you are. 

I often freak out, because I don't like who I am, and tell Vince that I want to change things about me. Every time, he looks at me and tells me that I'm the first person in his life that he's wanted to spend every day with, that he's felt himself around, and if I change the person that I am, it'll hurt him. Now, I don't want you to think I've decided to start working on liking me because he likes me...but rather, I want to start liking me because (as silly as this sounds) I have found an outside source that says there is something about me worth loving. If that's the case, then I feel like I'm missing out on something about myself...I've been so blinded by my warped self-perception that I can't see myself...

It's easy to look at someone else and say, "Man, they have so many great qualities," but sometimes it's hard to view yourself that way. I want to view myself that way...I don't want to forget my flaws, or ignore them, but I want to let  the positive things shine. 

I want to believe in myself.

I want to love myself.

And, if I can, I want to help others love themselves, too.

My Best Friend, My Husband

[From Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.]

As I've said before, I write my blogs as way to purge myself of things, or convince myself of things, or help myself realize things...and the only constant in that is MYSELF. The above quote was one I've had saved on my laptop for quite a while. It's from a book that my husband (before he was my husband) encouraged me to read. I took a photo of this paragraph because it spoke to me...I rediscovered it today when I was cleaning out a few folders of random photos I'd saved, and it made me think.

All I do is write about me. 

Before I go any further, let me just say that I think it's healthy to write about yourself. It's healthy to analyze yourself, and really be open, honest, and passionate about something (whether it be the drive to find out what causes your insecurities and nip it in the bud, or about the color red). But, I also think it's healthy to push away from that and explore other things. That being said...

This is going to be a blog about my best friend, Vince.

Never in my life have I known anyone as loving as Vince, and I don't just mean that he hugs me and kisses me all the time...I mean the nature of his heart. I think that's what made me want to be his friend in the first place.

When we first became friends (and I don't mean when we met, because that was years ago. I mean when we first really got to know each other, roughly two Thanksgivings ago when he started giving me guitar lessons) there was something about Vince that drew me to him. He was funny, smart, fun to be around, but more than those things, he was real. He never put up a wall or showed me any kind of pretense. He was always just Vince, and being around him was as easy as breathing.

I could say that I'm writing this because he cleaned our apartment the other day, and scrubbed our kitchen last night (which he did, and which I'm so thankful for), but that's not it...I'm writing this because, as horrible as this is, I often let myself forget to be amazed by the person that he is.

Vince loves people,
and he loves God.
He is selfless,
and caring,
and considerate,
and kind.
He's passionate about love,
about our marriage,
about music,
about his relationships with others.
He encourages me,
pushes me,
holds me up when I feel like I can't stand.
He works hard at whatever he's doing.
He holds me accountable.
He loves harder than anyone I've ever known...
hard enough that he's the first person in my whole life that I believe, without reservation, loves me.

If you've read my past blogs, you'll understand how huge that is. If you know me at all, you'll understand how huge that is. And the really amazing thing is I believed he loved me before we got married, before we were dating, before we knew what we were. He would look at me and tell me he loved me, and I knew without a doubt exactly what he meant. It wasn't because he gave me googly eyes, or gifts, or any of that...it wasn't even necessary in a romantic way...it was the way he treated me, the way he talked to me, the way we were together. There has always been love with us.

We've been married now just over eight months, and there isn't  day that goes by that I don't think about how crazy it is that something as wonderful as Vince decided to be with me...not because I'm devaluing my self worth (because I know he doesn't want me to do that, and I know that I don't want to do that anymore), but because of how genuinely wonderful he is.

I write this as a way of saying thank you to the man who turned my world upside down, and helped me glue together the pieces of me that were broken. With him, I see the love of God just in the way he interacts with me, with our friends, with strangers, even with our dog, Juno. He's my husband, and my best friend in the whole world. I'm thankful that I get to spend the rest of my life learning to love and appreciate him more and more.