Skip to main content

When the Cat Steals Your Joy



This year instead of my 7' Christmas tree, I had a this little Christmas Shrubbery. You see, I have a cat and being a cat she does all things cat-like. Well, almost all things. The next time she sits up and begs with my two little doggies, I hope to take a picture of it. No self-respecting cat begs and so having a picture of her sitting on her haunches looking for all the world like a doggie begging for food has got to carry some blackmailing power with it. Anyway, when you are a cat a 7' Christmas tree comes with the unbearable need to climb. Fragments of once shiny ornaments were scattered about my house like so much confetti at Times Square on New Year's Eve. So this year I foiled her with the shrubbery. Or so I thought.

Remember in Monty Python's Search for the Holy Grail when the knights had the bright idea of making the giant rabbit and getting inside only they forgot to get inside? Well I had the bright idea a small shrubbery wouldn't be attractive to the cat. After all what is a mere 4' shrub compared to a 7' blue spruce? How was I to know a 4' shrub brings with it other irresistible temptations, especially when there are shiny pretty things on it that are much closer and seem far easier to dominate!

So when you wake up from your nap to the sound of things crashing and the Christmas Shrubbery that looked like the one above now looks like the one below.... and the "joy" ornament that was visible at the top of the first photo is now conspicuous by its absence... you just got to laugh and remember that it could be worse. Faith and Peace could be gone too. Oh I know, you can't see them in the picture....one was under the table and the other was in the doggies' bed. That's right, Mali has no scruples. She tried to frame the dogs.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Spiritual Aphasia aka Senseless Theology

I was recently asked why I read theology and follow theological debates. "It's all just words and opinions." Words. Words on a paper, words on a blog. Words that travel invisibly through our airwaves and our minds. What would our inner monologue consist of without words? Harsh words, gentle words, untrue words, and solid you-can-die-behind them words. They have secret lives in the depths of our souls. They overflow in torrents of grief and joy. They seep out of our character flaws, wearing down the weak convictions that hold them back until they contaminate all those around us. All of us are stained within and without by the raw sewage of unkind words. Our souls are in jeopardy for want of The Word. Jesus Christ. The Gospel. The Good News. Words matter. Doctrine matters. Theology Matters. What you win them with is what you win them to. I study theology because I was lost too long in a world that scrambles truth with its own ideas and preferences. I was fed a diet of tosse
1 comment
Read more

Super Church a song for the Emergent-sy

In the early 70s I was in a youth choir at my church. Our youth pastor was a musician and his way of connecting with us as a group was through the choir and music. Somehow there was an affiliation between him and The Continental Singers, New Hope and Jeremiah People. He was worked with Moishe Rosen of Jews for Jesus too, I think. Are any of these names familiar to you? Though I remember the church fondly I was a profoundly lost and troubled young woman during my years there. That and time have muddled the memories quite a bit. Today I was digging through some old paperwork and one of the books to the musical we did. It's Getting Late For the Great Planet Earth, a folk rock oratorio by Cam Floria. Yes, that's right. Cam Floria put Hal Lindsey to music. There's a lot to laugh about and some to groan about but as I was looking through the songs and remembering, I found this little ditty and I only wish I could sing it for you. Just remember that this is circa 1972 and even th
8 comments
Read more

What if.....

...what if I just need a place to let some words spill out? What if they spill out in bouquets of bright colors and pleasing scents but their frames are made of snakes and lies? Will you the reader be able to tell? Will it matter? When words smell like lilacs and honeysuckle do you care what lies beneath them? Perfumed syllables cover the stench of hope's decay. A violet or two will fool most surface dwellers, allowing them to pass by quickly and unaware.  Is that what words are supposed to do? What if my aesthetics with words are similar to Morticia Addams' with flowers?  What happens when luscious blooms are discarded?  When the ragged silhouette of thorns is all that remains will you still see the beauty?  Perhaps we'll find out.
Post a Comment
Read more