Cat Napping

Earlier today I walked around in my hospital with "One Accord," a 4-woman singing group from Park Hill Baptist Church. We stopped at most all the patient units where the ladies sang three to four Christmas songs. Patients, family, and staff would pour out of wherever they were to hear the beautiful music of Christmas joy and worship. My green puppet, Ally the Gator, was a guest singer with the group at times.

I have no doubt Jesus walks the hallways and in and out of the rooms of my hospital. But today I believe Jesus sang, laughed, slipped his arm around those listening to the songs, and whispered hope into their souls--all because of four singing women, one smiling chaplain, a green alligator puppet, and God's universal language of music.

After I got back home from the "singing tour," Zach the Cat and I took a nap together late this Sunday afternoon. I laid down under my pillowy, puffy Christmas throw as the sun was casting the last of it's rays across the bed through my window. Once I snugged down under the blanket, Zach crept up and "kneaded biscuits" on my tummy until he finally felt I was fluffed up enough for a cat nap. And so my nearly 12-pound, very warm cat curled up on top of me and we slept hard for an hour.

Later I was off to my last Beth Moore Bible study on Revelation. (Excellent teaching, Beth. May I love God and His Word just a smidgen of what you do.)

Now I've got a new pot of chili on the stove and an old Stephen Curtis Chapman Christmas album singing throughout my house.

By the way, this is the hardest holiday season ever in my life for me.

Ever.

I miss my mom who died two years ago. I miss home that is no more. I find myself grappling with personal issues of wondering where is my place in this old world (and with whom), of feeling unsure where I'm going, of questioning why I'm here, and other bone-aching, heart-breaking type thoughts and questions. (I know. Very pitful.)

It's amazing how all these things I used to be secure about came undone once my adored mom disappeared from my life. It's like a type of Pandora's box was opened and all this stuff just flew out (of control).

As you can tell, I've been pretty dat-gum self-absorbed lately.

Self-concerned.

Self-sorry.

Self-pitying.

There's a key word in these descriptions.  I'm getting pretty tired of self, self, self.  Self-absoprtion is flat draining.

But the myth of Pandora's Box also says that even though much evil was loosed, one thing remained in the box--hope.

When I peer over into my life box that feels all empty, I see hope left in the bottom.  It gets overshadowed sometimes, but it's there.

Why?

As Romans 5:5 says:

"And HOPE does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."

Hope.

God.

Love.

Holy Spirit.

Sounds good. And that hope and all its ingredients is why I can take a cat nap with the cat. It's why I can make Ally the Gator puppet sing with a professional group of women. It's why I can participate in a Bible study. It's why I can put a pot of chili on. It's why I can listen to some (not all mind you) Christmas music.

Zach the Cat is right. Just lay down. Relax. And let the sun/Son shine on in through my window and into my heart and life.

"O come let us adore Him ...."