Back in 2009, I wrote a post called Why I Hate My Cats.  And Why I Love Them.  You can read about it here.



But now, I neither hate them nor love them.  I just miss them.

Over the last couple of months, one of them wandered away to die in the woods. She was old, she was sick, and that's what cats do when the end is near.

Then the other one simply disappeared.  Now: she wasn't really ours to begin with.  Instead, she belonged to a neighbor and that neighbor had the nerve to bring a dog home for the kids. The cat wanted no part of living in a house with a dog and decided to set up shop on our cat friendly front porch.  At first, we didn't know why the cat was there.  Then the very-nice-though-dog-loving neighbor came over, told us the story, and asked if we minded the new cat.  Not at all.

But now, as I said, that new-cat-who-wouldn't-live-with-a-dog now won't live with us.  We don't know if she was stolen or if she left us for younger and better looking caretakers.

I should be happy, right?  I am allergic to them, after all.  Now I don't have to feed them or clean them or buy them food or shoo them off my car.

But I'm not.  Here are the top five reasons why I miss my cats:

5.  Routine.  If you know me at all, you know I live by structure, routine, and ritual.  And so there has long been something so comfortable about driving up the driveway and VOILA! out bounds a cat.  Never interested in how my day has gone, but only concerned with her food.  At least it was predictable.

4.  Humor.  I find cats' inherent selfishness to be hilarious. 

3.  Care.  Even though "thank you" is not in a cat's vocabulary, I still find it rewarding to care for a being for whom I am the primary source of food and water.

2.  Wonder.  How did that cat get over that fence?  How did she get up that tree?  How did she kill that bird?  Why does she think I want that bird's severed head as a gift?  Endless wonder.

1.  Mice.  Don't have them.  The cats make sure of that.  Who'll protect us from the vermin this winter?

 

Yesterday was, well, eventful.

First, I had the great privilege of preaching on a bible story that features inebriation, nekkedness, and the world's first moonwalk.  Called "After The Storm," the message came from Genesis 9:18-27, where Noah has an unfortunate post-Flood run-in with his own vineyard, and all kinds of chaos ensues.  The sermon was designed to help us take personal inventory and catalog the ways in which we don't just endure storms; we have been the storms through which others must suffer.



Second, the e-book version of the entire sermon series, The Storm Before The Calm, went public on Sunday as well.  From the beginning I felt that the series would be a strong one, as the Scripture, the sermons, and the art all fell together in ways that were helpful in people's lives. 


You can download the digital version of this little book of sermons for free (until Thursday) by clicking on this Amazon link.  Check it out and share with others -- after all, you can't beat the price.

Third, our church received an incognito visit from a fellow Methodist pastor, James Howell of Myers Park UMC.  He came to the 10 a.m. service and fortunately I did not know he was there until we were done.



Returning a favor I'd done for him upon visiting Myers Park back in November, James posted a blog on his experience.  You can read all about it here. 

I've never been called "wicked funny" before, but I'll take it.

I alluded to this on Tuesday . . . I can't wait for this Sunday's message.

It comes from a biblical story that you have probably never heard used in a sermon.

It leads to a question that all too many of us neglect to ask.

I pray it brings healing to debris fields scattered throughout the homes in our community.

It's called After The Storm.

Sunday.

8:30.  10.  11:30.
 

Good Shepherd Soccer Outreach 2013