Sometimes when Don walks Dusty, our quirky wee cat Indy comes along. Now Indy is short for Indiana Jones, but I'm not sure she quite measures up in the intrepid characteristics. However, she does her best and loves to walk round the back of the woods with Don and Dusty, miaowing most of the way and with her tail flared in fear.
When they get home, she flings herself on the floor, spread eagled on the cold tiles, and regains her composure and strength before heading for a quiet pillow on which to curl up and sleep off the exertion.
I was thinking of Indy when I woke up today, and feel a kindred spirit with her desire to fling herself onto something safe and just breathe for a few minutes til strength returns. The last weeks have required composure and foresight and compassion and faith, while continuing to battle with a painful back, and this morning I threw myself on Jesus much as the cat throws herself on the floor. Just breathing. Hanging on.
Unlike the cold tiles, though, Jesus is warm and full of love and compassion. Held in his arms, his Spirit breathed again into my being, I am just about ready to face all that this day holds. Even if the freeway is a mess and my back is sore. I know my Saviour and I will remain as close to him as I can as I navigate the unknowns of the day ahead.
Thanks be to God.
A California girl from a hot beach city marries a country loon from the cold northeast of Scotland, and she's spent the last three decades making sense out of life there. Reflections on a rural lifestyle, on identity issues and the challenges of moving so far from home,from a Christian viewpoint.
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