Friday, September 27, 2013

As an author, I've experienced moments when I want to give up because of doubt, fear of failure, and even fear of success. The work is difficult. Some days each word is pulled from my mind with extreme effort.
We're told to just write the story and not worry about the details of grammar, sentence structure, passive voice, gerund phrases, overuse of words... The list goes on. The editing can be done after the book is written. Ha! Kudos to those writers who are able to do this.
Currently I'm revising one of my books, JOSHUA'S HOPE, which will be released before the end of the year. At the same time, I'm finishing the second book in the Havens Creek series. Moments exist. Moments of anxiety. Moments of doubt.
Life is a series of moments. Moments of trouble, moments of joy. These moments make footprints in our minds, like tiny bird tracks. Some will fade away, others are set firmly to remain forever. Moments mold us, change us. How we receive them will make us stronger or weaker. God wants us to use these moments to deepen our faith. To make us stronger. To prepare us for the future. He believes in us even when we don't believe in Him.
This is our temporary home. God expects us to use His gifts to spread the Good Word. Everything we have here on earth, He has provided. Not me. Not you. Doubts and anxiety are moments Satan uses to turn us against God. To deteriorate our faith.
My books will be God's time. For His will be done...on earth as in Heaven.
2 Corinthians 4:16-18 "Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."

Friday, September 6, 2013

Carrying on a Conversation with Cats

My day started with me sitting on my balance ball with my cat Wilbur on my lap. Morning is his time to get loving attention and it doesn't matter that I'm balancing on a ball and checking emails and Facebook. I reached for my cup of tea and out of the blue a huge sneeze escaped. So did Wilbur. Tea splashed on the desk and I nearly rolled off the ball. Nearly.

I suppose I've earned the title of crazy cat lady. I talk to my cats. Otherwise this house would be much too quiet. They like to hear my voice and yes, they talk back. No one but me understands what they say. But that's okay since there's no one to judge our conversations.

All three of my cats were adopted from our Vet's office and they are all three from one litter, proving how different siblings can be.

Wilbur wakes me each morning at 6:00 a.m. He hasn't accepted that I no longer have to wake early enough to commute to a day job, even though more than three years have gone by since retirement. He lays on my lap and purrs really loud, gives me long, loving looks. He never starts a conversation, but responds to I love you with a soft quick, love you back.

With cats there is never a day without amusement. Templeton is the king of the house. He rules. He's bigger and stronger...and much more curious. He is the one who carries on long conversations with me. He monitors my writing, gives me advice and sometimes has to tap the keys if he thinks I'm not following his directions.

He's always getting into something he shouldn't. Our conversations go like this:
Me: Templeton, get down from there.
Templeton: (turns to look at me) No!
Me: Do I have to get the water bottle? (I use a spray bottle to correct them)
Templeton: (Gives me the look and dares me with a loud) Go ahead!
Me: I mean it. Get down!
Templeton: (Ignores me) Continues to move forward with confidence and a soft meowing sound that equates to Right, like you're really going to do that.
Me: I make a loud display of getting out of my chair.
Templeton: Looks over his shoulder and stops, but doesn't obey.
Me: Now you're in trouble! (I reach for the bottle)
Templeton: Jumps down with a loud I didn't mean it! Saunters away.
Me: Yeah, and don't you forget it!

I've decided his little acts of disobedience are to distract me from spending time looking at the monitor. While I've been writing this, I've had to jump out of my chair twice to threaten a spray from the bottle. The cabinet door where the large bowls are stored is standing open. He is sitting beside me trying to strike up a conversation. Cats are smart and they reason out problems...even how to open drawers and doors. Sigh.

There are days when the cats race through the house so fast I can't see them. Just a streak, a flash of fur, running from room to room and coming to a sudden stop on the back of the sofa or loveseat. Eyes big and round. Head turning like they are watching something I can't see. Then off they go again. I can usually equate these episodes with a full moon.

Charlotte is the smaller, dainty female of the litter. She prefers spending her day sleeping on my bed in the sun's rays. She gives out loving on her terms. Such a diva!

She alternately hisses at the boys or grabs them for a loving face wash.

She isn't as vocal, but has the loudest voice. Mostly I tell her I love her, she rubs my arms and responds with a raspy I love you, too.

Ah, life is never dull around here. We have learned to live together somewhat peaceably. As long as I provide the food and water and keep the litter clean, they are content.

Every day I thank God for his blessings. My house is not empty, or without activity. The five of us have moved into a semblance of content. My three cats, me and God.

Not long after that, Jesus went to the village Nain. His disciples were with him, along with quite a large crowd. As they approached the village gate, they met a funeral procession--a woman's only son was being carried out for burial. And the mother was a widow. When Jesus saw her, his heart broke. He said to her, "Don't cry." Then he went over and touched the coffin. The pallbearers stopped. He said, "Young man, I tell you: Get up." the dead son sat up and began talking. Jesus presented him to his mother. -- Luke 7:11-15 (MSG)

Jesus isn't going to bring Ron back to me. I wouldn't want that. Wouldn't want him to continue suffering. No, he was called home to meet Jesus face to face. What a glorious life for him! But Jesus hasn't forgotten me, the grieving widow. Each day he continues to bring laughter and love into my life through my cats, my friends, and family. Each day he gives me the strength to get through whatever comes. He holds my hand, leads me, and understands. Yes, he even understands why my cats and I have conversations.