This past weekend found me in an emergency animal clinic with Charlie, my granddog. Charlie's mother was out of town on a business trip and Charlie's constant biting of her left leg had turned into a bloody mess.
Dealing with a 78-pound dog, who doesn't understand the word "heel," and doesn't love her neighbor as herself is tough for anyone, but certainly for a woman of small stature like me.
However, it had to be done, and there we were, in the vet's office at 11 p.m. on a Saturday night.
After a consulation, the doctor took Charlie back while I waited in the lobby, drinking coffee and scanning through magazines. A lady about my age walked in with a gray cat in a blue crate. Once seated, the lady took the cat out and began carressing her and talking softly.
The cat was making strange sounds and had a distorted appearance. Her mouth was open and her paws seemed drawn. With a teary face, the lady looked at me and said, "I think she's dying." After expressing how sorry I was, a tear slid down my face. The cat's name was Chloe, and she was 14 years old.
In a few minutes, the technician came and took Chloe back. Oxygen was given, but in the end, Chloe didn't make it. It was a sad time for all. The lady thanked me for "helping" her in her time of need, and my heart hurt as she took her empty crate and walked out alone.
Before I could get too emotional, however, Charlie was back, loopy from a pain injection with a "lampshade" on her head. I had no idea how I'd get her in the car and back home again, but when duty calls, we do what we have to do.
With a prayer for the lady who lost her cat, I hung on to the leash and embarked on the challenge at hand.
When the disciples told Jesus that a little boy had five loaves and two fish, Jesus said, "Bring them here to me." Notice, he didn't ask for what they didn't have, or for what the situation required. He only needed what they had.
I wonder how many miracles we've forfeited because we didn't bring what we had to God. Instead of giving in the offering Sunday morning, we clung to our cash, knowing a bill was coming due and funds were already too low to pay it. The little boy's lunch-for-one was multiplied thousands of times over, of course, but only after he surrendered it to the Master.
Food for Thought: When placed in God's hands, what you have can become much more than you need.
Once a spice comes home with me, a lifetime in my cabinet is guaranteed: I don't throw spices out. Ever.
I've got pre-historic celery seed, dry mustard in a rusty can, and ground cloves that were "best by" 1992.
It's an odd devotion, I suppose, but what can I say?
Of course, spices cost an arm, and a leg, and your firstborn child, so maybe I'm just cheap where spices are concerned. I don't know.
What I do know is that back in ancient times, dead bodies were anointed with spices. Egyptians were even buried with theirs. I'm sure some find that strange, but not me. I actually like the idea.
In fact, as soon as I'm done blogging here, I'm going to edit my "funeral wishes" to include being laid to rest on a sumptuous bed of bay leaves. I hear they're good bug repellents, too. And hey, the way I see it, that's a win, win.
I've been wanting to incorporate a vibrant orange into my living room for awhile now, so I gave up on finding the perfect throw pillows and am going with a light-weight afghan instead. Crocheting costs such little money, but it brings such therapeutic joy at the end of my day. If I find the perfect pillows, I'll buy them. But in the meantime, I'm enjoying Plan B.
There's an enchanting arboretum a few miles from my house. Not only is it a feast for the eyes, it provides a soothing serenity that money can't buy. I go there whenever I can. On this particular day, my daughter took a quick dash (and splash) through the water wall.
I never see, smell, slice or taste fresh-from-the-garden produce without marveling at the Creator's mighty hands. The fact that a single seed, when planted and nurtured, can return such goodness is beyond mortal comprehension.
Happy weekend to you all. It's hot in Texas.
My daughter is joining me in blog land. Her first day was yesterday. Having her along for the blogging journey is my simple pleasure this week. I hope you'll stop by her blog, leave some encouraging words and "follow" her: Going Stag