Kittysaurus Rex

She cried at our door for two weeks straight. I kept thinking she would go home if we didn't let her in. I was wrong. The darn cat was adamant about coming inside. The stray striped tabby came to the back door every evening and meowed until I shut the door. If I tried to shoo her away, she wouldn't go.

But then a couple days before Halloween the weather forecast was 34 degrees for the overnight low. don-E said we couldn't leave her outside. I picked her up and put her in the garage with a towel, water and a little food. She scratched at the door for a while but settled down and slept. The next day I put her back outside. The next night she came back in the garage to stay out of the freezing. It was then that I realized she was hanging out in the yard during the day and not really going back home, wherever that was.

Somewhere along the way, I can't recall the chronology, a friend came over and checked for a lost cat on Craigslist and Human Society. Oh, hadn't even thought of that. I kept thinking she would go home. I took a picture and posted it. I had talked to my neighbor across the street and found out a family one street over was missing a cat. The little girl and her friend came over to see the cat and said that they didn't think it was her cat and it was too skinny. DUH. She's been outside for two stinkin' weeks.

So, we decided to let her in and keep her. It was the week of Thomas' birthday and he really wanted a pet since Sam had a gerbil now. We agreed and gave him naming rights. Thus, we had a new cat named Kittysaurus Rex, AKA Kitty Rex.

No more crying from Kitty Rex. Just a sweet, mellow cat who even allowed Thomas to carry her up the stairs without a flinch or a fuss. Thomas picked out a black collar with pink flowers for her and we got a laser engraved name tag for her. We had marked our territory and she was a part of the family now.

Turns out Kittysaurus wasn't just skinny from being outside for two weeks. She was sick. Very. It wasn't FIV or feline leukemia so we didn't have to worry that Apple might get sick. But it was serious. Probably FIP, which is expensive to diagnose and incurable. Given the results of the blood work, her prognosis was guarded to poor. We opted for steriods and antibiotics in case it was one of the lesser illnesses. She slept at the foot of my bed and liked to be pet. But she didn't meow once or even purr while inside with us.

On Sunday morning, day 4 of meds, she was hiding from me. She was done. She hadn't eaten in over 5 days, probably more. Sunday evening she slept in the cat box. Weird. And after we went to bed, she let out a big cry. It broke our hearts.

The boys said goodbye to her on Monday before they went to school. Sam tried telling Thomas she would be alright and we had to tell him that she wouldn't. I took her to the vet and stayed with her. (She had bruising which meants she was bleeding internally and her liver had quit.)

Kittysaurus was adamant about coming inside and being with our family. I truly believe she knew she was sick and didn't want to die outside alone. She wanted to pass with dignity and love. I'm glad she found us. Rest in peace, Kitty Rex.

Facebook

Very few things in life are all good or all bad. Anything in excess can become toxic. And 'excess' has to be defined by the individual. Social networking sites are not all good or all bad. On the one hand, they keep people connected across the miles and years. We get to stay in each others' lives even when our time is limited. On the other hand, they help the anti-social think they are socializing without having to actually be there.

I feel I'm a bit old for the MySpace crowd but I tried it anyway. My motive was to stay connected to my nieces and nephews who had cool and creative Spaces. As they've grown up and gotten their own lives and families and jobs, it's harder to be a part of their everyday lives. Checking their MySpace comments and posts kept me in the loop, even if it was at a distance. I tried it, but it really wasn't for me.

Facebook is a better fit for me. I don't have to dress up my page or add cool gadgets to it. I can write a simple post about what is going on in my life or I can write a longer note. Recently, someone posted this:

We all go here and post things or play games. It's fun and entertaining, but what about our real lives when things are screwed up. Does it all really matter then? Uhh, NO

I respectfully disagree with the post. I think it does matter. And there's nothing wrong with "fun and entertaining," especially when our lives are messed up.

First, we post things. I sometimes post what is going on in the moment, what challenges I have for the day, what joys I want to share, and sometimes just a song lyric or joke that is stuck in my head. It's a form of sharing. If that's the only sharing a person gets in their lives, that is sad. It's a part of our connection, but not the whole enchilada.

When we share our joys, it gives others a chance to celebrate with us. I believe my friends are happy for me and want to know the good things happening in my life. I know I like to read about what makes my friends happy and excited. Whether it's a new plant for the garden or a baby's first step, I'm happy for them and ... to be in their broader circle

Conversely, when I post that I'm worried about someone who is hospitalized, I'm awed by the outpouring of concern and prayers. Sharing our burdens and allowing others to see the non-perfect sides of our lives, helps to lighten our load. If I post that my cat has died this week, I get sympathy and empathy. Same as I want to offer a word of encouragement or hope or just sympathy for someone who posts a trial in their life. It's a safe place to own up to a less-than-perfect existence. It helps us all to be real.

Journey, not the rock band

I've been thinking about God a lot lately. I've been trying to sort out The Creator from The Man in the Long White Robe of my childhood. If you're reading this to find ANSWERS, stop reading now. I don't have them. And I'm ok with that. We did get a flyer from a neighborhood church that said it has the answers. Hmm. If they have the answers, why am I trying to figure it out?

When I say I was raised Baptist, I don't really mean it. The times when I did attend church as a child was at a Southern Baptist church, for the most part. I remember attending a Seventh Day Adventist church a couple times. About all I can recall about church is learning a few Bible stories and getting a piece of candy from the bus driver who picked up me and my sisters. That's not a whole lot of memories.

As an adult, I attended a BIG Baptist church in Tucson. The guy I was dating didn't want to attend any Sunday school classes and didn't like to stay for the community-building part of church. (One of my big needs/wants.) He preferred to skip the passing of the peace and leave right after the sermon. I attended a couple of churches on my own but always defaulted to Baptist and couldn't figure out why it wasn't a good fit for me.

When don-E and I decided to find a church, we were pregnant with our second child. Having kids will do that to you. don-E was not a fan of "organized religion" and didn't want to be called a "Christian" because of the hypocrisy he had encountered. When we tried out churches with his Mom, we went to fundamental churches and didn't quite fit in. Then, on a Saturday we went to a Mardi Gras festival which included a jumping castle, jambalaya and karaoke--something for everyone. It was put on by Rincon Congregational Church, UCC. Turns out don-E knew someone from that church from his rock-and-roll life and we decided to try it on a Sunday.

I'm grateful to have found a church that doesn't tell you what to believe. Together we explore the Bible, Jesus, God, and the religious seasons. For us, Rincon lives into their motto: No matter who you are, or where you are on life's journey, you are welcome here. We feel welcome regardless of our beliefs (or disbeliefs) and, in turn, try to respect other's views and needs.

I regularly read the obituaries in the daily newspaper. This weekend, I read that a woman had "gone to be with the Lord." I can understand that this is comforting to those left behind. If our loved one is now with God, it's easier to let them go. But, this time, it struck me as odd. Does this mean that I'm not with God while I'm earthbound? How can that be? God is everywhere and in all things, right? God is in us as we are in God. Pastor Steve, our newly hired pastor, gave a sermon a few weeks ago about how God is always near us. He compassionately and eloquently spoke what is in my heart.

It's funny to think of God as a Jim Carrey, Steve Carrell, or even George Burns regular kind of guy. But it can't be. A mere human cannot be everywhere at once. Our imaginations are limited by what we know or can understand. God, to me, is more of an energy, a spirt, than a person. As I continue to think about Who or What God is, I will, most likely, continue to refer to God as He and Lord and Father and all the other gender-specific, non-inclusive labels that I grew up with. For now. And I'm ok with where I am on my journey.

What's up? IDK

I wanted to ask for prayers for my sister on my Facebook page. Some may pause a moment to read my status and wonder. Some will want to know a general answer. And others may want to know what is up. This is to answer the what-is-up category.

But then I realized that I don't even know what is up. Here's what I do know: my sister Rhonda is dying. Dying from what? you ask. I don't know. How can you not know? It's a Family Of Origin dynamic that I've mostly come to terms with. I still don't like it, but I gave up trying to change / fix it years ago. Well, mostly.

My mom has been to all of my sister's doctor appointments and hospital visits. She has been my filter for my sister's state of being. That's an imperfect system, at best. I've know them both for 45 years and know that they think they are doing right by withholding information from me and her children. They think they are protecting us from some hurt that only they can bear. And maybe a little Information Is Power control going on, too.

Rhonda turned 46 over this past weekend. The closest thing resembling a diagnosis has been that she has ulcers. According to WebMD, it could be severe ulcers. At any rate, she is in a rapid decline right now and down to about 90 pounds. She has an appointment on Wednesday to see if she can be admitted to an inpatient rehab facility so they can get her health and weight back up.

Sometimes a loss of a loved one is so hard because it takes away the last sliver of hope for that relationship. For what could be, in time. For the healing of old wounds. For the future. So, if you've read this far, please say a prayer for Rhonda and her family, and me.

Laid Off, not laid to rest

It was a Monday like any other Monday. August 31, 2009. The last day of the month. Just another Manic Monday. I took the kids to school and don-E went off to work. It was going to be the first "normal" week so we could get into a routine.

Three weeks prior, the boys started a new school. The following week, don-E and I went to Maryland for his 25th high school reunion. The next week, we returned on a Tuesday and tried to get back on track.

Finally, we were going to have a week where we just had our usual jobs and chores and activities. After school clubs were starting and the gym was re-opening. I was looking forward to getting into a routine of drop off and pick up, homework and activities, down time and chores. As I made plans, I think I heard God chuckle.

After I dropped off the boys, I was going to do some chores until my dental appointment to get a temporary crown. don-E IM'd me on Facebook and said he had some bad news, did I want it on IM or a phone call. Usually his version of bad news is that he got a flat tire or broke something on his guitar. Not this time. He typed me that he and Steven got laid off. I believe my response was "for reals?" Of course, I called him right away and found out that he didn't know anything further. He was told by someone other than his boss who would call him soon.

Now rewind to earlier this summer and we had been talking about the possibility of don-E finding a new job. He had been increasingly dissatisfied with the work he is doing. He loves being a programmer / web developer, but the actual work he has been doing has not been creative. (This is a man who MUST create.) The powers that be had made it so difficult to make a simple change that it became more and more frustrating. We had already talked about how we could cut back on our expenses so he could take a lesser paying, but more fulfilling job. He felt he was on the edge of something great and his talents could be used possibly in a non-profit arena.

don-E had been working for Sun Healthcare for 10 years. The first 5 months, he was a contract worker. He had an apartment in Albuquerque and flew home each weekend. When they offered him a full time position, we agreed if he could telecommute from Tucson. Since then, he has had an office either in our house or, more recently, at his mom's house. It's been a good ride and I've taken full advantage of having him around the house and flexible, especially when the boys were younger.

As we waited to hear from his boss about the details, we discussed that maybe this is God's way of forcing him to do what is next. The sole supporter of a family of 4 doesn't easily let go of a good paycheck when the economic forecasts are still shaky. Maybe God is ready for him to do the next big thing and wants him to be prepared. When his boss did call, she was way more upset than we were. We felt like we needed to console her and tell her it will be alright. We were oddly excited about what's next for us. (We were still in a state of shock at this time.)

That evening we explained to the boys the difference between being laid off and being fired. We told them that, for now, they would still have their classes, but that we wouldn't be going out to eat or shopping for extras at Target. We gave them a chance to ask questions and tried to be honest and direct and age-appropriate. This is our grown up business to handle and not for them to worry. To wrap up, I asked if they knew how I know it is going to be ok. Thomas, my sweet six year old, said, "Because we're together." Indeed.

Giving Thanks

On Thanksgiving Day 2005, my sister Rhonda ripped me a new one. She had had it up to here with me. I had no idea it was coming. In the moment, I was equally stunned and hurt. Everything she said to me that afternoon, I had heard before. But the angry, hateful tone had never been directed at me. Until it was. On Thanksgiving Day.

I've thought about that day a lot since then, especially when Turkey Day draws near. I've thought about how she hurt me and what I have felt since then. Only recently have I thought about what Rhonda was going through. Right now, Rhonda may or may not be dying. (My mom says, "Everyone is dying," as a way of not discussing it with me.) Add that to having another birthday and you can see why I'm feeling sentimental about family.

Rhonda picked two duds for husbands/fathers of her four children. She stayed with the last one way beyond the expiration date. In her so far 25 years of motherhood, she didn't appear to be enjoying it. I'm sure it wasn't ALL bad and I know she had moments when she was happy. But they were overshadowed, to me, by her apathy, frustration, and unhappiness.

Lately, as her health has diminished and her weight is under 100, I feel sad. I'm sad for her that she didn't enjoy her life. I'm sad that she is has all four children (2 adults/2 minors) and two grandchildren living with her instead of coming to visit on occasion. I'm sad, that for sisters who are only 10-1/2 months apart in age, we are not close. I'm sad for her and I'm sad for me.

She has never apologized for that afternoon and I don't expect it. We didn't speak for three years. We have found a path back to being sisters and family. Thank goodness for the adult children living with her that I have had a relationship with which allowed me an easier re-entry into her life. We even had a giggle-conversation when I visited her in the hospital. It was bittersweet.

On that Thanksgiving Day, as we did every year, we stopped by to visit at her house before going to the in-laws for dinner. Because her dinner was earlier in the day, we usually had a bite of whatever wasn't on the menu at the later dinner. We chatted and played ball in the driveway. And, every year, I took a group photo. (I'll never have the group photo for 2006, 2007, or 2008. Maybe I'll have 2009?)

What I didn't know about that day, or the previous 10 years, was that Rhonda wanted me to help out more. She never once asked me to make something or cook or prep. I had no idea this was festering. None. (Side note: I am the youngest of four girls and I really don't know how to cook. I get by but it's not my strong suit.) We sat and had a bite with the family, except for Rhonda. As was her MO at the time, she took a plate and retreated to her bedroom to eat alone.

When we were ready to leave, I went down the hallway to say Goodbye to her. I poked my head in the door and she laid into me. I don't remember the specific curse words but she said I was selfish and lazy and worthless. I was stunned. don-E heard and was coming down the hallway to see what was wrong. My mom heard some but was, I think, at the far end of the hall. I turned and walked away. I didn't let don-E respond as he wanted to.

She didn't know how else to communicate. We didn't have healthy role models growing up. She didn't have the opportunity in her married family for respect and vulnerability. Her way was to retreat/ignore or lash out. I had never been in the flight path before. I was shocked and took it very personally. I could have easily gone back the next week and acted as if nothing happened. That would have been acceptable in my family. But I didn't.

I kept waiting for her to communicate in a way that she wasn't going to, and maybe even couldn't. I worked at a treatment center for 5-1/2 years and went through therapy for myself. "So what I hear you saying is..." I had caring, considerate, and loving family around me. She didn't. She was ridiculed for her thoughts and feelings and things said in moments of vulnerability were used against her later. What I wanted/needed wasn't going to happen.

She was right that I just showed up each Thanksgiving Day and chatted and nibbled and then left for the other family dinner. It was selfish of me. I'm thankful for a long enough life to learn lessons and grow.