Saturday, May 13, 2017

Other Mothers

As my thoughts turned to Mother's Day today, I kept reflecting on the other mothers.

Mothers who don't have legal custody of the children they are raising, yet love the children in their care as fiercely as any 'real' mother could.

Mothers who love their children enough to know they won't be able to give them what they need - who surrender them to another mother, and sunder forever their own hearts.

Mothers who choose to foster children from troubled homes. They take a child in and love them and hand over a piece of their hearts, knowing all the while that this precious child can and probably will leave their home - and take that piece of their hearts with them when they go.

Mothers who oh-so-desperately want to have a child, but cannot.

Mothers who carried a child who never drew breath.

Mothers who loved a child who died too soon.

Mothers who, after teaching other's children all day long, have no energy for their 'own' children - and so choose never to bear them.

Mothers who reach out to another mother's lost, broken children, giving them a solid example of love in a world gone crazy.

Mothers who have to say goodbye too soon - who death claims before they are allowed to see their beloved children grown.

I know at least one woman who embodies each of these other mothers. Their courage amazes me. Their ability to love beyond reason moves me to tears. They are my touchstones, my heroes. I hope I can be just like them when I grow up.

They are living examples of Good in our world.

Goddess Bless all the Other Mothers.




Wednesday, May 3, 2017

Monster

 Monster, cat of boxes, blankets and bugs, is still learning how to trust.

He spent quite some time as a young cat in an apartment where he was physically cared for, but where his owner was hospitalized - so there was no one there to actually spend time with him and his mom. He wasn't abused, but had no time or reason to bond with the caregiver who took care of food, water and litter box.

When Joe first brought him here, he was much afraid and hid in the basement for days. We made sure there was food and water down there, and checked on him often, scouting the rafters for his telltale white ears. We'd reach up, let him smell our fingers, scratch his head between his ears, and let him be.

He's lived here now for almost three years, and is a much happier kitty. His fur is thicker, he's lost most of the excess weight he carried, and he no longer bolts from the room when someone new enters. And, when he purrs me to sleep (I'd keep him around for that if no other reason - when I lie down, he'll come next to me, place his paws on my arm, and purr for 15-20 minutes. The best sleep machine out there!), he no longer automatically jumps away if I so much as twitch a muscle. Sometimes, he just waits for me to resettle, then finds a new spot and begins to purr anew. I REALLY like those times.

This past winter, he decided that perhaps, just perhaps, he was a lap kitty. I'd see him watching the mis-named Angel as she curled up on my lap with an appraising eye. Then, one day as I was sitting at the table, up he hopped. It's taken some practice. Monster is a big cat, and takes a lot of room on a lap. Where she can gracefully balance along one thigh when my legs are crossed, he takes up the lap, the whole lap and there's no room for anything but cat on the lap. We've learned together that a cat sitting on a lap needs to be properly balanced and their weight must be kinda-sorta centered or said cat will slip off and ungracefully fall to the floor. (It still helps sometimes if I'll tuck one hand around his back to help him stay on.)

It's heartwarming. He'll climb on up, and start his deep purr, tucking his paws, closing his eyes until they're satisfied slits. He's king of the lap. Any books must be held to one side; no sharing the prime center-of-the-lap space for him. It's taken him a long time to come this far - and I feel privileged to be on the receiving end of both his trust and his purrs.

Healing is good.

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P.S. I thought I should share a picture of the artistry of wastebasket, radio, and broom placement I spoke of last week.  It truly is an art form (and yes, they had to be placed just that way for the radio station to be clearly received):