Grief, Loss, Hope and Dave

I lost my cat this week.

Clark and Dave.

And, quite frankly, I'm feeling pretty stupid about it. Because I've blown up people's Facebook feeds with pleas and posters and pictures. And I know there's a segment of people who are looking at it and saying, "OMG woman, it is a cat — get the hell over it." And then there's the other side of people, who seem to want me almost paralyzed with devastation, and text or message me daily to see if I'm OK.

I'm willing to have a healthy amount of perspective here: I lost my cat. Yes, a cat I have had for 12 years and will miss insanely. But I don't have a fatal illness. We're going to be OK.

I have faced worse crisis. Most of them around Thanksgiving — which is why I hold my breath from Nov. 1-30 and just try not to get hit by whatever bus is coming.

Splat.

This is also challenging all of my religious bits. I know that Jesus knows where Dave is — be it locked up somewhere, hurt or dead. Jesus knows. Should Dave still be alive, Jesus can help him get home.

And while I pray that prayer ("Jesus, please bring Dave home healthy"), I also know that Dave is, at minimum, 14 years old (he's a shelter kitty, so age indeterminate). He's old. He barely has any top teeth. He's been drinking a ton of water lately and I've been a little worried about him. I've also been considering the inevitability of his death.

Dave may not be coming home.

Does that mean that Jesus doesn't care about Dave, or me, or how horrible it is going to be to keep telling Clark that Dave is gone? No. It means that life is natural, and cats grow old. And cats die. And sometimes they go off into the woods to do it.

And life, growth, death and grief are a part of that process.

Does knowing that Dave may be gone forever make me a less faithful Christian — because I'm not believing that Jesus will bring him back?

No. God is not a genie in a bottle. Can He interfere in the natural process of life, death, etc.? Yes, He can, to His glory. And if He wants to do that and have Dave show up on the front porch this evening, I'll be grateful.

But it won't change the fact that my cat is 14, and will some day die. Perhaps in a more agonizing and painful for all involved way than going out one night and not coming back.

I miss Dave. If I think too hard on it, I become a little overwhelmed. He's been there for me through terrible break ups, the death of family, starting new lives in new towns and new states. He's moved with me countless times. He put up with the introduction of TJ into our life, and then the introduction of Clark. He has loved me, and loved TJ, and loved Clark.

He sometimes is an obnoxious, furry little butthole. He whines a lot in the middle of the night. He sometimes will bite people on the head. He begs to be fed all day, every day.

And he also slept under the covers with me when it got cold at night — my purring little heater. He liked to cuddle. He would nibble on my arm in a little, painful, "I love you." Or possibly, "Please move this appendage."

I am going to miss Dave. Probably for a while. And while I still hope that perhaps he'll come back, I also hope that he found a nice warm place to find his end. And maybe up in Kitty Heaven, he got to be reunited with all of his pulled teeth.

Red Cups and the War on Christmas

I've been in the Christmas spirit quite early this year. Perhaps because I don't really care for Thanksgiving. Perhaps because November is just wet and dark and dreary, I'm eager for the colorful lights to make winter appear a little less blah. Perhaps because I have a 2 1/2 year old who is eager for whatever this "Christmas" is.

Yesterday, I bought supplies to make him a felt Christmas tree, with felt ornaments, he can decorate over and over.

This morning we watched "Elmo's Christmas Countdown" before school.

Older versions of the Starbucks holiday cup
— which clearly proclaim the glory of the Lord.

And, like most of the U.S., I have been enjoying Starbucks' red Christmas cups since Halloween.

Which I didn't know until today was controversial.

Thank goodness I have Facebook to tell me when I need to be offended by something.

Did you know, that the simple, plain aesthetics of Starbucks' solid red Christmas cups is just another volley in secular America's war on Christ, and on Christmas?

Let's add this one to the renaming of Christmas trees to "Holiday Trees" and Christmas breaks to "Holiday Breaks." It flies in the face of everything we believe in just as much as saying "Happy holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas."

I just. I just can't. I can't even pretend outrage over this issue. Let's even step back from the traditional "If you cared about social issues as much as coffee cups, we'd have world peace," arguments. Although there are plenty — justifiably — of those.

Instead, to that guy who started this, I just want to say:

Really dude?

This is what Jesus died on the cross for? For your outrage over the design of a cup created by a secular company? Where is your joy? How can you possibly spend the happiest time of the year angry over this? And everything else that you are undoubtedly angry about?

Christmas should be easy for Christians. You can't hardly walk into a store without hearing holiday musak proclaiming peace on Earth and goodwill toward men. Instead of doing something meaningful to celebrate the (arbitrarily selected day on which we celebrate the) arrival of our savior, you are going to remind the world how truly stupid the religious righteous can be.

This Christmas season, I am praying for you, Angry Christians. I am praying that every red holiday cup fills you with awe and wonder at this season. That every time you're trapped in a checkout line listening to some horrid rendition of "Away in a Manger" for the nth time, that the lyrics overwhelm you for their simplicity and beauty.

I pray Jesus gets into you in a way you never expected, and reminds you that the joy of the Lord is our strength — not the righteous indignation.

Let Jesus defend himself. In the meantime, I hope all Christians can spend the holiday season at least doing no harm, and at best making an actual difference.

Please, please — adopt a prison family this Christmas. Pick a tag off an Angel tree. Give to the Salvation Army Santa. Fill a shoebox for Operation Christmas Child. Do something. Be cheerful about giving presents to your family or creating new holiday memories.

Remember Jesus was born once, on a day we don't know. But more importantly, he died to make a path to salvation. Don't stand in the way for those on that path — like a pharisee, declaring your holiness and importance.

And if you really, really feel like the biggest thing facing Christianity today is the dilution of a co-opted holiday, please accept this steaming, warm, peppermint-flavored cup of STFU.