When you lose your beloved dog

Beautiful cavalier king charles spanielA dog is not just a dog.  And if you are a dog-lover, you will know what I mean.  This is George, my little boy. My baby.

I was shocked when he jumped on my bed one morning.  He hadn’t done that for a few months and his health had declined through the week.  Oh, he’d had such a hard, hard life.  Before he was one year old he’d had his first major leg operation.  He ended up having 3 leg surgeries over the next few years, 2 of them were major reconstructions.  He developed an auto-immune disease which caused large scabs to break out on his face.  He had a severe allergy to all proteins, so was on a special diet.  And because he was on cortisone, as well as other pain killers twice a day, we knew his life would be shortened.  But we loved him, and to us, being pain free and happy meant more than anything.  It meant he wouldn’t live a long life, but it would be a good life!

So, he jumped on my bed for a morning cuddle, which really shocked me.  I stroked him lovingly.  I’d had him at the vet the night before as he hadn’t eaten for four days – since our house flooded from a burst pipe.  Like I loved to do, I leaned over him and kissed the top of his head.  I buried my nose in his fur.  How I absolutely loved the smell of the top of his head!  After five minutes he tried to jump down but couldn’t, so I gently lowered him to the floor.  He still wasn’t well but at least he ate something the night before.

I went to work after checking him and left him asleep on the couch, head nestled on his favourite cushion.

At work I noticed I’d missed four calls from my son.  I quickly rang him.  He said he’s just arrived home from fishing and George was really sick.  He’d vomited all around the house and had severe diarrhoea.  I rang the vet to say George was on his way with my son.  He was put on a drip and admitted to hospital for tests.  I rang the vet throughout the day and kept getting updates.  I prayed for him, but just couldn’t leave work early as we had international visitors.  I was in a dilemma.

Our George was a fighter and he’d come through everything life had thrown at him so far.  I knew he’d pull through this too.  The vet rang me when I got home from work to say he was sedated and comfortable, but he was a very sick boy.  They were closing so I couldn’t pop in to see him until morning.

I waited for the vet’s morning call to say I could go and visit my George.  I just needed to know he was ok.  I ran to the ringing phone and couldn’t wait to hear about my baby.  “Hi Cathy. {pause} George didn’t make it through the night.  I’m so sorry.”  I sat on the end of my bed.  Stunned.  It couldn’t be true.  I didn’t get to say goodbye.  I wasn’t prepared.  But like all mothers do, I pulled myself together so I could tell my husband and my sons.

I went to the vet to bring my boy home, where he belonged.  The vet nurse lovingly laid him in my arms in a little white body bag.  I drove him home from the vets for the last time.  With a face covered in tears I kissed the top of the bag where his head was and breathed in deeply.  I just wanted to smell his head, just one last time.  I couldn’t’ smell him.

My husband, sons and I stood together around the mandarin tree and laid our boy to rest.

I now live with the guilt that I didn’t say goodbye to my little man.

“I’m so sorry Georgie.  I didn’t realise that last cuddle you gave me that morning on my bed was you actually saying goodbye to me.  I will treasure that moment forever.  I will see you again one day.  With Max, Winky, Kizzy, Chrissy, and all my little boys and girls that I’ve loved over the years.  RIP my little brave man.”

George died on 24th January 2015.  Forever loved.

 © 2015 CEW

Originally posted on my old blog site

 

Why Is There So Much Hatred?

Now folks, here’s a post that’s worth reading every word of. I don’t think this is just relevant to America, but to Australia and the rest of the world. Whether you agree or not, it’s a great post!

I reblogged this post because …
https://catinthecactus.com/2015/09/22/how-to-pay-the-reblog-blessing-forward/

Miles of Life Lines

My Facebook feed is filled with such animosity these days. Did you know we’ve been living among Syrian refugees these past months? I sure didn’t. I mean, I’d heard the words uttered on various outlets, but I wasn’t aware it was actually happening. This is my point. They came, they settled, they lived. And then 1% of the world committed an act of terror and suddenly it’s out with the innocents! If you feel my disdain for America and don’t feel like reading further, this is your exit point. If you disagree with me and think they should “stay in their country and deal with it”, you sit your butt in that dang chair and read every dang word I’m about to type because I’m going to make your inhumane stupidity very damn clear. This is my animosity.

  1. From the Christian point of view, refusing hospitality to those in need…

View original post 850 more words

Why being you is better than being me

Potters hands making clay potHave you ever wished you were like someone else?  Prettier, skinnier, stronger, or even wished you had talents and gifts like them?  I have.  I’ve wished I was quieter and more gentle-natured and I’ve wished I was more like my sister.  She has all those qualities I aspire to.

I heard this story that is simple, profound, and I have never forgotten it.

Two clay water jugs belonged to a family who lived in a little hut in an arid land.  The jugs were nothing alike.  One was beautiful – and perfect.  The other was well used, cracked, and continually leaked.  But each day, the water-bearer picked up her two clay water jugs and trekked a long way to the water hole.

She filled her two jugs to the brim and slowly made her way back to her hut and her waiting family.  And as usual, by the time she got back, the damaged clay jug was empty and put on the shelf until the following day.  It sadly watched as the beautiful clay jug was placed on the table and the water it held was enjoyed by a loving family.

The daily routine was always the same.  The little cracked jug watched and wishing it was like the beautiful perfect jug, and couldn’t understand why it had to endure the same sad routine every day.  Why wasn’t it thrown away?  It felt useless.  It had no purpose.  It just wished, with all it’s might, it was the other jug.

It couldn’t take it anymore!  So it asked the water-bearer “Why do you take me to the water hole every day, when I am broken, I leak and can’t hold any water?  Every day when we come home I am empty.  I am useless.”

The water-bearer lovingly picked up her broken jug, hugging it closely as she walked to the hut opening.  She faced the jug towards the path that led all the way to the water hole.  One side of the path was lined with the most amazing and beautiful flowers, and other people in the village were looking at the flowers and smelling them.  These flowers were the most beautiful things in the village.  She said “Do you see those beautiful flowers that line the path?  Every day when I walk back from the water hole, it is you who waters those flowers.  It is because of you that we have the most beautiful flowers in all the land.  Your job isn’t to bring water to the family table, it is to bring life to our village.  You are special in a different way.  That’s your unique purpose, and you are beautifully and wonderfully made.

I apologise that I can’t recall where I heard this story, so I can’t give credit where it is due.  But I believe that if you are reading this post, you may need to hear it – to give you hope and inspiration.  Whether it’s Karma, or the Universe, or God (or whoever you believe in) speaking to you, this one’s for you – to remind you that you are uniquely and wonderfully made, and have a purpose.

This is why being you is better than being me.  

©  2015 CEW

If God loves GLBTs, who are we to judge?

Happy people dancing under a rainbow around Tree of LifeI’m a happily married Christian heterosexual woman, and I’m publicly coming out of the closet.  Not to declare I am gay, but to declare that I am NOT opposed to same-sex-marriage (ssm).  I am even going one step further to say “God Loves GLBT’s”.  And by that, I don’t mean God loves “gourmet lettuce bacon and tomato sandwiches”.  I mean …

GOD LOVES GAY, LESBIAN, BISEXUAL AND TRANSGENDER PEOPLE!  And I declare it loudly, proudly and publicly.

I would never win a theological argument on the issue, because the theologians would bamboozle me and confuse me with their intellect; and I would end up looking like a stuttering twit.  So I am going to put my views forward in a simple way.  My way.  The way I think God reflects his love for all people.

In the olden days I may have been burned at the stake for my views, and maybe even now I will upset some of my Christian friends or readers.  But that’s OK too.  It’s our chance to practice grace towards one another.

I’ve been a Christian for 10 years now, and my Church has done a lot of teaching on the love and grace of Jesus Christ.  They’ve taught that there is not one single Christian in our Church (or anywhere else for that matter) who is not a sinner, and still a sinner.  Most of us are private sinners, and because others don’t see it, we tend to get away with it.  So I thank my Church and Pastors for never coming across as being high and mighty and righteous.  Thank you for being “real”.  I also apologise in advance if my views are not “right”, but I know you will love me despite that.  Because that’s what the real “followers of Christ” do.  That’s what you have taught us.  Anyway … back to my post ….

I’ve seen some dreadful vision coming out of the USA since ssm was legalised.  One particular picture of a grown man bending down and shouting into the face of a 6 year old girl incensed me.  Maybe the girl shouldn’t have been supporting ssm in a crowd of supporters, as surely she’s too young, but the man was old enough to be able to contain himself and treat her, a child, with respect.  Would God condone any man treating a child this way?  Not the Christian God that I follow, that’s for sure.

I have seen many placards being held high by Christians over the years saying “God hates fags!”  Wrong again.  Not sure about the god they say they follow, but I know it’s not the Christian God.  He actually sent his son to die for “all” people, so their sins are forgiven, and all means every single GLBT person on the planet and all sins (yes, even the “judgement” shown by these Christians).

When I thought about writing this post {sitting at McDonalds having a coffee on my way to Church} a picture came to my mind so strongly from the Bible.  It’s the image of Mary (the adulterer) on her knees being stoned by a self-righteous crowd.  Then the feet of Jesus come into her view.  And his hand reaches down to her.  He loves her.  He then says “let those without sin cast the first stone”.

The “stoners” in the crowd – I see as the Christians in today’s world.  The self righteous ones that hide their sins but condemn others for theirs.  And Mary, to me, she represents every beautiful GLBT person, individually and collectively, that Jesus reaches out to and loves, despite anything they may have done that others don’t believe in.

To today’s condemning Christians:  Read this story in your Bible.  God doesn’t hate any sinner.  He loves them.  He loves the GLBT community.  He didn’t scream in Mary’s face, like the man facing off against a 6 year old in the USA, nor condemn her.  He reached out towards her with grace and love.  And she became one of his staunchest followers.

Also to today’s condemning Christians:  You are a sinner too, as am I.  It’s just that your “sins” are done in private.  And because your fellow Christians that you sit next to at Church on Sunday don’t know about your secret “sins” of greed, lust, sex before marriage, cheating on your tax return, etc., etc., etc., that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.  It just means you hide yours and are not publicly judged and condemned for them, the way you do to the GLBT community.  God is against greed, lust, worshipping of other gods, lying, adultery and judgement; but it IS legal under man’s law.  I don’t see you opposing these things that God opposes.  The GLBT community has their so called “sin” on display for all to see, and you treat them as if they have a target on their hearts that is yours to shoot at.  Please don’t.  God didn’t intend this to be your ministry area.  He called you to love them … despite that they are GLBT.  Then, there’s God’s definition of Marriage, and man’s which we in Australia call “The Marriage Act”.  Most countries have their own marriage act, that’s why some cultures allow a man to have two wives etc.  You may choose to follow God’s law for marriage, which I do, but the man made marriage act is legal and doesn’t transcend God’s laws.  Choose which laws you follow, and allow others to choose theirs.

To those that want to stone me for my views:  That’s ok.  I know we all have different views and it’s okay for yours to be different to mine.  But we are all called to love others as Christ does.  That’s why I will show grace to you.  Well, I will try, anyway.  God knows I’m not perfect either.

To the GLBT community:    G O D     L O V E S     Y O U.   It’s as simple as that.

Originally posted on my old blog site
© CEW 2015

 

Shocked by the amazing MIRACLE HEALING!

This is a true story about praying for my son just to “shut him up”. What happened next shocked us both …

Angel praying on kneesWhen my son was 11 years old he hurt his ankle quite badly. The doctor sent him for X-rays fearing it was broken, but it was severely sprained. It was his second day home from school, and my second day home from work looking after him. He and I are not good at sitting still, and even worse when we feel like caged animals. We were like bears with sore heads. It was only a matter of time before one of us ran out of patience with the other.

Due to intense boredom, I cooked us all a steak for dinner. In case you are wondering, I am renowned for not being a good cook.  (See my post The Sausage Casserole that was banned for life! for proof.) I hadn’t cooked steak in over 10 years, but I was older and wiser now; surely it couldn’t be too hard, could it?

It was; the steak was a disaster. And truth be known, even I had sore jaws after sawing through it! But son’s patience was up. It started with “Mum, I have a sore tooth.” Then, “Mum, I HAVE A SORE TOOTH!” I replied “Try using dental floss” and “Go brush your teeth”. He went on, and on, and on; as did I. I was trying to load the dishwasher and his harping was severely grating on my nerves. Finally I exploded “WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO ABOUT IT?”

He raised his voice right back at me and said “WELL … YOU COULD TRY USING YOUR JESUS HANDS!” “Fine. Go down to my bedroom. I’ll be there in a minute.” He literally hopped down the hallway, trying not to let his sore foot touch the floor.  I really should have gotten him crutches.

I chuckled to myself “Jesus hands? Where did he learn that?” In fact, it really tickled my fancy. You see, I am the only Christian in my home. My husband and sons are not on that journey with me. Yet. But they know that I love to go to Church and pray for others, and they have seen me pray for people, including them, when they have needed it. It seemed son needed it now. I certainly was not going to refuse.

I met him in my bedroom and lovingly cupped his face within my hands. We both closed our eyes, and for a few minutes, I prayed out loud. I must admit, my prayer really sounded quite good, even to me. It sounded like real poetry! Anyway, my prayer finished and I asked him “How does your tooth feel?”

Old statue of Mary and baby JesusHe prodded and poked, opened his jaw, closed it again, put his angry eyebrows into action and said “IT’S STILL SORE! That’d be right! Healing doesn’t work!” He was not impressed. Oh well, thought I, I’m not magic, if he hasn’t been healed, it’s not my fault.

He stormed out of my room and stomped up the hallway. I ran to my open bedroom door and looked at him, completely stunned. I yelled at him “STOP!” He stopped and turned to look at me. I had the biggest grin on my face imaginable. He said “What?”

“What’s happened to your ankle?”

He marched on the spot. He looked down at his feet. He walked up and down the hallway a few steps. He jumped up and down. “It’s healed.”

I looked quite cocky. I couldn’t help it. “Oh, healing doesn’t work does it?”

He stuttered … “Well, Well … I didn’t ask Him for that, did I?” And off he stormed again.

I couldn’t stop smiling all day.

The lesson I learned that day:
When God answers our prayers, he gives us what we need, even more than what we want. Sometimes he gives us what we haven’t even asked for.  If we just step out and pray for others, we don’t need to worry about “sounding” like a prayer warrior, or like a poet, or be amazingly articulate.  We are just called to step out. Pray.  He will do the rest.  I need not feel prayer pressure ever again.

©2015 CEW

 

An Aunt’s Reflection

3 hearts on clotheslineI am their Aunt.

I watched; as they grew inside their mother’s womb. I’d put my hand on her stomach and feel them move. I’d smile.

A boy. He was battered and bruised from a traumatic birth.   I watched his cousins say “he’s beautiful” to his Mum. I told them not to mention his injuries as they’d hurt his Mum’s feelings. I saw; the creation of a new mother’s love come into being.

A girl. I watched; as she entered the world and was gently placed on her mother’s stomach. She cried when she looked upon her tiny daughter.

I watched; when they were 2 and 3 years old and their dad left their Mum. Who would have known they’d grow up in a single parent household. Not I. Not anyone.

I watched; as their Mum struggled to bring them both up, on her own when they were so little. I watched; as she went back to work and put them in childcare so she could keep paying the bills. And I held her when she cried; because she didn’t plan for them not to have a dad living in the same house, like most of their friends had.

I was there for their first day of school. I watched; as they walked through the gate, struggling to hold those big school bags on their backs.

I watched their tantrums and I went to their home to be the “tough” one when they were giving their Mum a hard time. They could be little terrors at times! I heard; when then called me “The Commando”.

I watched; as the doctor told their Mum she had cancer. And I watched over them in the hospital as she had surgery. It was a tough year.

I watched a little girl; struggling with a big vacuum cleaner to try and help her Mum clean the house. I watched a little boy, who would lean close to his Mum when she slept, not wanting to wake her, but just making sure she was still breathing. I watched; as they both went through things that no child should ever have to go through.

But do you know what I’ve seen with all of my watching?

He – is one incredible and amazing young man. He has so much integrity and I’m proud of the man he is becoming. He is only 15, but he seems so much older. A true gentle-man. A man any young woman would be proud to take home and introduce to her parents.

She – is not just my niece, she is “my sister”. A 14 year old young woman, a nurturer, who cares about others with amazing empathy and compassion that most girls her age do not possess. She is beautiful and witty, smart and intelligent. Her heart for social justice and what is right is so powerful in such a young woman.

But I don’t just watch them. I pray for them; I encourage them; and I am one of their most ardent supporters. But more than anything.

I love them. I am their Aunt.

©2015 CEW

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