Not Better, Just Different -- Boys, Girls, Cats, and Dogs

If you've read this blog for awhile, you will know that I am crazy about my pets. I had gotten a dog several years ago. I had her about 6 months, but it turned out that she had pretty severe separation anxiety. It broke my heart, but the situation wasn't good for either o us. When I took her back to the shelter, they suggested a cat. I was hesitant since I believed that cats were aloof. Out of pity on me, they suggested I take a certain cat home for the weekend and provided a litter box and food. Within the first 12 hours, I was sold.

I now have two cats. I think they really see themselves as dogs. They greet me at the door and Mali can even be persistent about having guests pet her. They both sleep with me.

Still longing for a dog I could walk with and such, I got Hadley a few months ago. It's been interesting to see how people respond. It's as if I've somehow joined the "right" club and people will say, "Don't you like having a dog better than cats?"

Truthfully, no. Don't get me wrong. I adore Hadley, though she is a good deal more work then Katy and Mali. I love all three of them. They are different, but neither is better than the other.

I interact with them differently. For example, my cats are quite a bit smaller than Hadley. Their bones feel lighter somehow. When I pet them or cuddle them, my touch is a bit more gentle. Hadley gets a bit more rough housing. She likes to be wrestled with and will play tug of war. Katy and Mali go nuts over the laser pointer. Hadley could care less.

Katy has always been a fetcher. Hadley is still learning to fetch. She'll chase a ball, but will only bring it back about half the time. In this, Katy has her beat. But rather than fetching a ball, Katy fetches hair bands.

As I was thinking through this, I realized it is much the same way with boys and girls. Even as infants, the way people play with a girl can be much different than a boy. There is often more of a gentle touch with a girl. Though they can't show a preference as a baby, even the toys we encourage them to play with are different.

A long time ago, there was a book out called Children's Letters to God. In there was a letter from a girl who wrote,

Dear God,

Do you like boys better than girls? I know you are one.

No, God doesn't like boys better than girls. And I don't like dogs better than cats. They are different. So, there are different ways of loving them. Even with the cats, there are nuances to my relationships with them.

And I suspect that there are nuances to God's relationships with each of us. Does He love any of us more or less? No. But He does know what we each need to feel loved.

40 to 40 (Gratitude 40)

This my last 40 to 40 post. (Though I may have to modify the button and throw in the idea of practicing gratitude every now and then.) I apologize upfront if it is on the long side, but there is so much to say.

Forty years ago today (11:09 EST to be exact), I made my way into this world with my sister close on my heels 5 minutes later. We were born several weeks early. I weighed in at 3lbs 4oz and she weighed in at 4lbs 3 oz. We were scrawny, tiny things. Though it's not the cutest picture of me, this is the earliest picture that I have of me:


But we grew. I think we were fairly cute by the time we were toddlers:




And here is a picture from elementary school which includes my younger sister, Cathy. Can you believe that long blond hair when we had very short, curly, black hair? She took after my father. We took after our mother.


And then the gangliness of the teen age years:



And then came the college years. Here I am with some of the crew from my School of Leadership Training family group:




And here I am just a few days ago with my friend Jill at the surprise party my community group through for me.



Doing 40 to 40 over the past month and a half has been good for me. The first few were easy. Then I hit a patch and it became harder. I didn't want to "cheat" and just start naming people or items, though there were people I mentioned as well as groups of people. I wanted each one to have some memory or really thought out gratitude to it.

My life is nothing like what I imagined as a child growing up. It's nothing like I thought it would be when I was in college. And it is definitely not what I've craved over the last few years. But doing 40 to 40- practicing gratitude- has helped my focus on the positives over the years with things ranging from an elementary school teacher to the church I am in now to an attribute of God. 40 to 40 has kept me focused on the vast amount of things that I have to be thankful for. Does it take away some of my heart's desires? No, but it does put into perspective all that God has done and is doing over the course of the last forty years.

Today's gratitude is that I am thankful that I know a living, personal God who holds me in the palm of his hand. There are several pieces to this:

He knit me together in my mother's womb. I struggle with knowing this deep down in my heart, but I am claiming that God knit me together without dropping a single stitch:

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderly made; (Psalm 139:13-14 NIV)

Not only am I created by God, He has called me by name and I am His. Names are so important. Just think of how good it feels when someone you've met knows your name. As a twin, I was always just one of the twins and always got asked, "Which one are you?" But God has never -- even as only one among billions and billions of people -- had to scratch His head and say, "Which one are you?"

But now, this is what the Lord says -- he who created you O Jacob, he who formed you O Israel: "Fear not, for I have redeemed you: I have called you by name and you are mine. (Isaiah 43:1)

I am a person riddled with fears. Very slowly God is helping to rid me of those fears. Scripture is clear even in the verse above that we should not fear because we have been redeemed by God. Psalm 23:4 puts it this way:

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

I can hope because God is transforming me. I may sometimes wish it could be quicker, but I am not who I was yesterday or who I will be today. Colossians 1:27 says

To them God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.

More than anything, I can be grateful because God loves me. J. I Packer wrote the book Knowing God. One of my favorite passages in the book says this:

. . . There is tremendous relief in knowing that His love to me is utterly realistic, based at every point on a prior knowledge of the worst about me, so that no discovery now can disillusion him about me, in the way I am so often disillusioned about myself, and quench His determination to bless me.

God's love is utterly realistic. He knows all the bad things I've done, the thoughts I've had, the times when I knew He wanted me to respond one way and I did something totally other. God knows all that and He still loves me.

Even in knowing all of that Zephaniah 3:17 gives a picture of how great His love for me is:

The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.

It's hard to imagine that God loves me enough that he rejoices over me with singing. His love, despite all of the the things He knows about me, His utterly realistic love wraps around me day and night. It is for this love from a singing God that makes me stand in awe. I do not fully understand it. I do not think it has fully penetrated the depths of my heart and soul, but it is this tenderness and love for which I am most grateful.

And He cares enough to respond to the little details of my heart. I had thought that for this birthday I really wanted a cake. But I couldn't imagine a whole cake just for me and I didn't want to buy one and was unsure about making what I imagined. I imagined a round two layer cake with icing in between. On Friday my small group surprised me for my birthday. Here is the cake:



It was three layers rather than two. And God threw in some raspberry filling to top it all off. I hadn't told anyone about that desire. So, in my mind it shows God's great care even over something as small as birthday cake.





If you didn't see enough of my growing up pictures click here.

The Truth Heals

It's Tuesday. While I enjoy Tuesdays, I didn't really want this one to come. It's the last chapter of Lisa Whittle's book hosted by Lelia. It's been fun to share with everyone what God is doing and even have the author chime in.

Everyone says that the truth will set you free. But what truth will set you free: the truth. It's not just any old truth out there that in our day and age may not be truth at all. It's the truth about who we are in relationship to Jesus.

Lisa share's several truths that sum up the truth (her words in blue):
Truth #1: Recognition -- God created you exactly the way you are, with your unique personality and temperament, since He is incapable of making a mistake.

I know this is true, but honestly, I have a hard time believing it at times. I often times feel like a mistake -- something that was just thrown together from left over bits. The truth is that God knit me together in my mother's womb. I use to knit and would frequently drop stitches. Somehow I have a hard time believing God has ever dropped a stitch. So, why is it so hard for me to believe that He created me just the way I am suppose to be?

Truth #2: God created you with a free will to choose your behavior and mess up your own life.

Ouch. But I know it is true. I make choices that impact my life every day. Some of them are good and some of them are bad. And sometimes other people's choices impact me. But, ultimately, even when they impact me I am given another choice in how I respond. My life is very much about the choices I have made and continue to make.

Truth #3: Resolution

God wants us to figure out who we are in Him and not try to be someone else. Really, that is what this whole book has been about -- our tendency to try to be someone we're not. God made us for a purpose. Maybe all the pretending gets in the way of what God is doing in our lives and the lives of others.

We are imperfect, flawed. But Jesus has chosen to bestow His grace on us. We need to grapple with that truth, the truth of His love and care, to really become who we were meant to be.

I love the idea of choices. In essence that is what I have done with both my Hope Chronicles and my 40 to 40. The first was a choice to choose hope consistently for a year. The second is a choice to choose gratitude and a different outlook on turning 40. So, this year I have tried to make good choices that hopefully point to Him.

What choice can you make that might draw you closer to Him?

No Fishing

It's Tuesday, so that means that it is Behind Those Eyes by Lisa Whittle day at Lelia's. Today's chapter was number 9, "We Are Completely Flawed Yet Forgiven Completely."

As someone who is very aware of their shortcomings, I get the completely flawed part. Oh, I put on a good face at times (though sometimes things leak out), but if you lived inside my head I would be deeply ashamed. For in my brain are all the insensitive, jealous, spiteful, mean things. (Now, remember I confessed that sometimes they leak out and go spilling on whomever is nearby.)

Being a very reflective person, I do understand my sin. (Though who of us understands it completely? There are so many "little" things that have slipped away with time and gone unconfessed. Only, God has the true tally count.) So, I understand flawed and I'm a bit taken aback to admit that there are probably a vast amount of things that I have forgotten and go uncofessed and wounds unhealed.

It makes it even more humbling to know that I go before HOLY God, carrying my sin along with me.

This chapter reminds me of a skit I wrote a few years ago. It was never used, but I wrote it for some unknown reasons. Here is the story line but not all the words, just enough to give you the gist:

There is a woman (we'll call her Lucy) who has arrived in heaven. She is in a room filled with the things of her life. Some of them she is tucking under the bed, out of sight. Other things (like the award she got as volunteer of the year) she is displaying more prominently.

There is a knock at the door. Two FBI type angels walk in. The first asks what she is doing. Lucy replies, "Just tiding up a bit."

Angel 2 says, "You know you don't have to do that."

"Oh, well one wouldn't want to meet God with a mess around," replies Lucy.

Angel 1 to Angel 2: "She doesn't understand. Shouldn't we explain."

Angel shakes his head and says, "We could try, but typically, they don't get it until they've tried." He clears his throat. "Umm, Lucy it's time to go."

"What? I thought I had more time. Quick grab the suitcase."

Angel 2 shakes his head. "Mam, you are only allowed to bring what is most important."

Lucy is clearly agitated. "I know. If you'll give me a hand, I'll get things ready. Put that pile of things in that suitcase please. They are all very important -- me at graduation, the time I helped the homeless man and my picture ended up in the paper, . . . ."

Angel 1 shrugs and has Angel 2 help with the preparation. After the two suitcases are full, Lucy is still looking distressed and still hiding things in the closet and under the bed. Angel 1 reminds her that she can only take one thing. "Yes,"says Lucy. "I suppose I'll have to leave one of the suitcases behind." She is close to tears.

Angel 1 says, "Let me show you something." He gently leads her to the window. "Look out there."

"Why it's a beautiful lake!" Lucy cries.

Angel 1 says, "Actually, it is a sea. It's called the Sea of Lucy."

"It's named after me?"

"Yes. And it is a very special sea. It is made up of all the tears God has shed for you over the years -- times when you were scared or hurt and the times when sinned. He cried when you cried and when you walked away and when you came back. Everyone has a sea here."

Lucy is tearing up. She looks closer. "What does that sign out there say?"



Angel 2 reads it to her. "For some reason, you humans always try to pull up what God has cast into the sea. You hold onto them much longer than He does. He knows all you have done and all you haven't done -- the bad and the good."

Angel 1: "We really should be going."

Lucy, again in distress, tries to lift a suitcase, but it is too heavy. Angel 1 gently says, "One thing is all you can bring."

Angel 2 reminds her to remember the sign on the Sea of Lucy.

Suddenly it dawns on Lucy. "The only thing I can bring is my heart, my life, just as I am."

And the two angels escort her into the presence of God flaws and all because she is already deeply loved.

This concept does not originate with me. Well, the idea of God's tears making a sea with each of our names is purely fictional and my idea. But the other part, the no fishing part comes from a picture that hung on the wall in a stairwell at InterVarsity's Cedar Campus. I don't know how long it had hung there. But it was there during my student days with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship and then my 11 year tenure on staff. My guess is, though I haven't been back in years to check, is that it still rests on the wall in the stairwell at InterVarsity's Cedar Campus. Even though it was a simple charcoal sketch, it never failed to catch my eye and my heart.

It was sketched in black on white paper -- a picture of the sea. You could see above the water and below the water. The artist had drawn the bottom of the sea littered with an inner tube and bit of trash and debris. But the heart clincher for me was a simple sign, slightly askew, in the bottom right hand corner. It simply read, "No Fishing."

I do not know who the artist was, but it has been a visual reminder while at camp and in my mind away from camp for years.

God loves me flaws and all.

The Review -- Hope Chronicles 68

I knew they were coming. I just didn't know when. I guess every October everyone at Barnes and Noble gets reviewed. Two of the managers told a group of us at customer service last night that they would be happening. Uggh. My first thought was that if it was going to make me cry, we had best leave mine for the end.

I suppose that yesterday's post on perfection prepared me a bit. I reminded myself that I didn't have to get a perfect score (an "exceeds standards" in my mind). One of the other managers had told me someone has to do something truly exceptional to get one of those.

My 4.0 personality didn't like that idea, but reading everyone's posts from yesterday helped me keep it in perspective. I didn't get any "exceeds standards" but I did get lots of great written out feedback like the fact that way back last Dec. 29th a customer called in to compliment the service I had given her, and another customer had said, "Amy treated me great" or that I come in when needed and respond quickly to pages for help in certain areas. So, over all it was pretty positive. There are things I need to work on to make better, but everything "met the standards."

After getting reviewed that way, knowing that they actually track the "kudos" we get from customers and other employees, it tells me that they are really watching -- not in an weird way but lots of things I did without thinking got noticed and I had forgotten about them

So, I got reviewed last night. My question today is, if I sat down with God today, what would His review say? Would it say that I helped a homeless man or gave to Compassion International? Would it say that I am sometimes petty and that I'm easily hurt? I don't want to know my life time score of consistency in my time with Him. (I try, but . . . .). Would it talk about the times I shared about my faith and the times I didn't follow the prompting?

Scripture tells us that we will have to give an account for every word we say. In the NIV in Matthew 12:36 it says "But I tell you that men will have to give account on the day of judgment for every careless word they have spoken." Wow. I should really bite my tongue more.

I have hope however that in such a review at the bottom it would say "Loves Jesus. Not quite there yet but striving to be like Him. Dearly loved by the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit." And everything else would fall away.

I still need to work, talk, act, as if that holy review is coming, but there doesn't need to be any trepidation because I know that my heart is tenderly held in the Father's hands. He knows I will mess up and "not meet standards" at some points, but the bigger thing is my relationship with HIM. What a hope that is!

What would your review say? When you got to that last question about your relationship with Jesus, what would it say?

If I Had Only Known

Sometimes, others have already said it so much better than we ever could that it seems necessary to borrow their words. Carolyn Arends is a Christian singer/song writer. This song sums up the end of things with Bill for me. Here is a snippet of it:

If I had known only known

That you'd be leaving here so soon

I would not have been so flippant

When I offered you the moon.

I would pull my chair up closer

To the railing of your bed

Chosen much more carefully

The words I said

I would ask you for your stories

I would tell you mine

I would give you much more credit

I would take more of your time

There's so much I left unspoken

If you were here right now

Oh, I would love you out loud

Carolyn Arends

Love You Out Loud

Album: This Much I Understand

If I had only known:

• I would have held your hand more often
• I would have called you more just to say "Hello" even if we would be seeing each other in just a few hours.
• I would have laughed when you tried to tame my crazy kitty Katy into coming to you no matter how late it made us for dinner
• I would have pressed to meet your family sooner
• I would have let you help me with more things instead of trying to be independent
• I would have snuggled more
• I would have told you more about my thoughts and feelings. Oh, it wasn't that you didn't it ask but just that I am not a natural talker.
• I would have made you more cookies and peanut butter pie.

If I had only known that you'd be leaving here so soon, I would not have been so shy. I would have loved you out loud.

If you were here right now:

• I'd let you help with flowers for the yard
• I'd actually cook for you
• I'd tell you how hard it was to have you go so suddenly
• I'd laugh with you about Mali's antics. She would have you wrapped around that tiny paw.
• I'd let you comfort me on some of the strange turns my life has taken
• I'd tell you about the book I hope to write
• I'd drive you crazy holding your hand
• I'd laugh more
• I'd smile more
• I'd be the one to try and sneak the kiss
• I'd count every second as a treasure

And, yes, I would love you out loud . . . .

---

Bill died April 23, 2007 from an aortic aneurysm. We had met at church. Our first date almost turned into a group outing. I was standing with Emily when he approached me and asked about a concert in Peoria that night. Assuming he meant a group outing, I turned to Emily and asked her if that sounded like fun. He graciously said that more people would be fine. But Emily caught on more quickly than I did and she declined.

When he picked me up he noticed that I didn't put the garage door down. I explained that it was broken and I had no clue what to do with it. The next day he came by to fix it for me. I was making cookies, so he stayed for some . . . .

He fixed that sill garage door 3 times! Third time was the charm. It hasn't broken since.

But I suppose instead, it's my heart that got broken to have him leave so suddenly. It's been a year and I still remember. It's been a year that was really hard in places, but my heart is healing. I'm making it through.

Bill brought me laughter and a feeling of connection that before I had only ever dreamed could happen. Without Bill I might have given up that the connection even really existed. While it hurt to say a sudden "Goodbye," there is hope in knowing that mystical connection is fact not fiction and even I can dare to reach out for it.

Say It All Out Loud

Last year it snowed right before Valentine's Day and it snowed the day of. It snowed so much the night before, I thought we would have to change our Valentine's plans. While it was still dreadfully cold, the snow relented and Bill and I and Mark and Jill made it to the dinner theater/show. (Jill lost her gloves somewhere there. We never did find them, but it made picking out a birthday present easy for her for later in the month. )

I remember being in a bit of a tizzy about what to get Bill for Valentine's Day. Having never dated much, I didn't have a clue. What would say to much? What wouldn't say enough? We had only been dating since November and had navigated Christmas and then his birthday January 14th. For Christmas I got him a Bible that helps you read it through in a year and the book I helped write. He had been asking to read it, but I was shy about giving it to him. I made him promise to read the whole thing and not just my chapters. (And he did, but he read my chapters first!) For his birthday he got slippers. Okay, that's kind of a practical gift. I typically like presents to have meaning behind them. But we were at the mall and he looked at them and really liked them and had been complaining for a month about the hole in his. Oh, and we also spent a whole day together in Chicago.

A month later, Valentine's rolls around. As I said before, I didn't have much experience in this holiday. Nothing jumped out at me. There was nothing he needed or hinted that he wanted. So, I had to get creative. I decided on two things. The first was making a peanut butter pie. I had never had one and definitely had never made one. But he had always talked about how good his mother's was. His mother had passed away a number of years before and there was no way to get that recipe. I don't think Bill even had it. I scoured the internet and came up with a simple pie recipe and decorated it with a Hershey Kisses shaped in a heart. The second gift was a heart felt letter.

I think they were good gifts. They made sense to me on an emotional level and I hoped they had meaning. But looking back, I also think the letter was my way of not taking a risk. I never heard my parents say, "I love you." I never saw any affection between them. Navigating this was really uncharted territory. So, I did what I felt safe with. I wrote.

Bill passed away unexpectedly the end of April last year. While I did manage to say, "I love you" at times, I never said it as much as I thought it. I never said it with as much depth as I wrote it or felt it. It was my fear of rejection or looking silly or sappy or whatever that kept me from it. But I knew that Bill longed to hear it. So, I wish instead of writing it that I had read it to him. I wish that I had said it out loud with all the depth there was behind it.

Whatever it is, say it out loud or in whatever way the person you love (children, friends, spouse) will hear it best. Don't let fear or embarrassment or whatever holds you back rob you and them. Say it out loud! Life is too short not to.

A Rose By Any Other Name -- Hope Chronicles 11

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose , by any other name would smell as sweet." It's a famous line from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliette. And the conclusion is that the name isn't what matters. Romeo would still be Romeo even if he wasn't a Montague (but it would have been easier if that was the case). A rose smells the same no matter what it is called.


Can I weigh in on both sides? Yes, a rose still smells the same, but there is something significant about our names. Why else would we be hurt when someone cannot remember our names? However, I am also willing to admit that this may be a pet peeve of mine. As you might guess from the picture, I am an identical twin. I do mean identical. We were constantly mixed up as children. I know the trick of telling us apart in some of the more "staged" photos. (We were placed in alphabetical order.) Give me purely candid shots and I am often guessing too!


Recently, I had some friends' children over. One found a tape and wanted to know what movie I had rented. It was actually a video made out of the reel to reel (yes, I'm dating myself) tapes of when I was a child. He wanted to see and asked, "So which one are you?" All the motion of two busy two-year-olds left it impossible for me to decide which one I was!



While some twins "outgrow" this identicalness, Sara and I still look remarkably alike. She recently attended the Hearts at Home conference in Grand Rapids, MI -- about 5 1/2 hours from where I live. Several people from my church are involved in Hearts. Sara had person after person come up and exclaim, "What are you doing here? I didn't know you were coming." To which she replied, "I am NOT who you think I am!"


In light of this, I'll have to forgive my grandfather for never knowing us apart. He called all the granddaughters "Honey" and "Missy" interchangeably while we were growing up. At about 14, it dawned on us to ask, "Now, which one am I?" We were horrified to find he didn't know!


Perhaps it is teenage girl thing, but I went through a phase of deciding what I would name my children when I had them. In bookstores, I could be found perusing the baby name books because somewhere in my head I had decided that when I named my children, I wanted the names to have meaning. This meant that they needed to be named after someone important in my life or that the name actually meant something. I planned out how I would tell them what their name meant and that each time I spoke their name I was speaking that characteristic into being in them. Lovely thought, isn't it?



At the same time, I could not resist knowing what my name meant. All the books agreed that "Amy" meant "beloved." However, I never had the courage to ask my parents why they chose that name for me. I know very little about the day I was born except that they had no clue that they were in for a bonus baby! I do not know if that excited them or overwhelmed them. I know only that we were premature and had to stay in the hospital for awhile and that Sara went home several days before I did. I do not know if they kept a vigil while we were there. I really know next to nothing.


But I do know that I did not feel "beloved." My family was a dysfunctional mess and "I love you" was not said and affection was not shown. (Even as adults, my sisters and I cannot seem to move beyond this.) I learned early on that it was better to read unobserved in the corner than to be noticed. If you were noticed, there was typically a sharp word or a criticism or a reprimand or any number of things. So, in my mind, I think I have always felt that it was some cruel joke like calling the fat kid "Skinny" to be called "Beloved" and not feel loved.


Most of my Christian life, I have approached God with caution. I've sometimes thought that I had snuck in the backdoor and could only stay as long as He didn't notice me. For awhile I opted out of church. When I came back, I came back literally trembling. For months I did not partake in communion just in case God might strike me down with a great zap from heaven for sullying His table after having abandoned church for so many months and being a sinner.

Luckily, even when I abandoned church, God did not abandon me. God has brought me into a great community of believers. From my friend Jill I have learned to say, "I love you." I also believe she has chosen to love me. I was (and to some degree still am) as prickly as porcupine when she first met me. (It can't be easy to love a porcupine!) Perhaps, more importantly than learning to say it, I have learned to hear it and receive it and believe it from others and God. I am still working to know how to rest in it.

Love. It drew Jesus to the cross for me. It made Him stay there until it was through when legions of angels were waiting for His call to sweep in and bring Him down from that brutal cross. For my sake, He endured the ultimate agony when taking my sin upon himself, God turned away. He did it for me. Because of that, I can never say that I am "unloved."

I do not profess to understand the book of Revelation. But with my fascination with names, Revelation 2:17 has always caught my imagination. "He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it."

A name only between me and God, written on a pure white stone. With as much as I've struggled to understand His love, I might not be surprised to find my own name written there -- "Amy, loved one." I have hope because of His love for me.

Cats, God's Work, and Pure Hope -- Hope Chronicles 9

I have always thought of myself as a dog person. But a couple of years ago, I had a dog. I absolutely loved her. But after six months, it became clear that it wasn't working out. She - seriously - had anxiety. The vet even put her on anxiety medication! It manifested itself whenever I would leave. She clearly needed to be with someone who was home more.

I was distraught over having to give her up. (I still tear up if I think on it too much, but it part of this tale.) I had gotten her at the Humane Society and had talked to them weekly since getting her. They promised they could find her a home and suggested a cat. Why would I want some aloof cat? They loaned me one (something they don't usually do) for the weekend. Two years later I have two cats that think they are dogs. They literally greet me at the door and follow me from room to room. Even though I have a huge bed, they pretty much sleep next to me or on top of me!

I brought the kitten (right) home the day before Thanksgiving. I thought and thought about what to name her. I came up with Amalia (A-ma-leah) but Mali (Ma -lee) for short. Why the name? I actually knew someone once with the name. I liked it. But more than that, I liked the potential for the meaning. I got on the computer and searched name sites. I put in "hope" and came up with things like Esperanza. I suppose I could have called her Essie for short, but my eyes alighted on the Arabic word "amal" which means, of course, hope.

Since I am focused on hope, why not use it as a name for my kitten as well.

Mali was a stray before she turned up at the Humane Society at 4 months. I got her at 6 months and have had her for a month and a half. While she is very loving, she still acts like a stray when it comes to food. She will hop up on the table (though she isn't allowed) and steal something off your plate. Oh, she is a bit sly about it. She waits for just the right moment. Once she has it, it is hers!

I first witnessed this when I had a pizza crust in the garbage waiting to go out to the garage. I was watching TV. I heard this fierce growl. Mali was crouched with the crust (wider than her head) in her mouth. My other cat, Katy, was nearby. This was the reason for the growl. Since then she has snatched and ran with margarine wrappers, a piece of bread, and a piece of lettuce. While I didn't want her digesting the wrapper, so obviously, I had to get that from her. I also retrieved the bread and lettuce at personal risk (her claws are sharp and her growl is fierce). While these might not have harmed her, I didn't want her thinking that she could do that, reinforcing her by letting her keep her prize.

I had thought that a month or so of consistent feeding would weaken her resolve. Actually, I think it has gotten worse! I have now lost 3 dish rags left on the sink to dry (but obviously smelling of soap and food) to the recesses of the house because she has made off with them. She is now banished to the bathroom (crying piteously) each time I cook or even eat anything.

While I don't approve and would love to break her of it, I must say I admire her tenacity. For someone so little to growl so fiercely at someone so much bigger than her, for her to be so single minded in her pursuit, well there is something to be said for that.

Am I that fierce, that single minded in my pursuit of God and hope? I want to be!

As I have said, I knew a girl once named Amalia. I thought they had told me the name meant hope. But, I couldn't find it on-line or in any of the books I looked at. I had pretty much settled on it and decided that it was a feminized form of the word Amal. One night at the bookstore, I found a Christian naming book. Before shelving it, I looked. It was in there! But instead of just meaning "hope," it meant "a work of God."

And what is hope? It is a work of God in our lives. Without Gods work in our lives, without God, we live and those who have no hope. We can be sure of hope because our hope lies in an unchanging, unfaltering, and utterly dependable God. Did you catch all of that? UNCHANGING. UNFALTERING. UTTERLY DEPENDABLE.

Granted, it is more than we can fathom living in a world of broken people who let us down. But God is not a broken person. Oh, we break his heart sometimes, but it isn't the same thing. Even though we are faithless, he remains faithful. Once He has us, he holds us close.

J.I. Packer is a modern day theologian. In his book, KNOWING GOD, he writes:

"What matters supremely, therefore, is not, in the last analysis, the fact that I know God, but the larger fact which underlies it -- the fact that HE KNOWS ME. I am graven on the palms of His hands. I am never out of His mind . . . . He knows me as a friend, one who loves me, and there is no moment when His eye is off me, or His attention distracted from me, and no moment, therefore, when His care falters. . . . There is a tremendous relief in knowing that His love to me is utterly realistic, based at every point on a prior knowledge of the worst about me, so that no discovery now can disillusion him about me, in the way I am so often disillusioned about myself, and quench His determination to bless me."

Read that a couple of times. We are graven on the palms of His hands, never out of his mind. He is never distracted by a cell phone or someone pulling out in traffic. He doesn't waffle if He finds out something new about us because He already knows all there is about us. We can never disillusion Him. He knows the worst about me and loves me -- enough to go to the cross for me. That is essence of pure hope -- resting in God's love for me.

What does it look like to fully rest in that?

What does it look to fiercely follow after God?

What does it look like to seek him with a single minded focus?

I'm not sure. What it looks like in my life may be different than what it looks like in my life, but I would love to know what it looks like for you!

I am just beginning to figure out what it means for me. I think some of what it means for me is:

• being faithful to read and study His word


• keeping scripture in front of me


• being aware of my tendency to always, first and foremost, wonder how something will impact me rather than those around me


• choosing to serve


• focusing on hope

And more, but I am still figuring it out.

At some point in our lives we realize we are helpless to save ourselves -- that no amount of work on our part, no amount of trying, no amount of effort, no amount of anything will save us. It's typically a humbling and a bit of a scary place to be. But God steps in and says, "I will make a way for you." He offers us hope through the blood of Jesus shed on the cross. He says we can come no matter what state our lives are in. He holds out his hands . . . and dies so that we won't have to be separated from Him forever. The Cross is the purest picture of hope there is.

On a side note, my other cat's name is Katy. It comes from Katherine meaning pure. So, without realizing it I have ended up with a daily reminder of "pure hope" in Katy (pure) and Amalia (hope). That just came to mind last night!