Of Mice and Cats

As nature abhors a vacuum, cats abhor a shut door...which is why mine get so excited when I open the door to the basement.  As in, yelling "WooHoo!" and high-fiving each other excited.  Ok, maybe not.  But if cats COULD yell "WooHoo" and high-five each other, they would.

So, this morning, I went down to the basement to move a shelf.  This entailed moving cases of canned food, checking the expiration dates, throwing out the expired ones shrugging when I saw some have expired (oh, well, I'll try them anyway), moving the shelf, and replacing the food.  While I was at it, I broke down some cardboard, and gathered up some grocery bags, double-bagged them and set them aside to take to the food pantry on Friday, and realized that the mouse traps need replaced (we use the glue-type)...no mice, just dust, spiders, and cat hair (because they're nosy little buggers).  And the cats were in their glory.  I was in one room, and they had the run of the basement. I finished what I was doing, brushed some cobwebs off Angelica, and headed up the stairs, leaving the door open so they could take their time exploring.

About ten minutes later I was eating lunch and heard a plaintive mew...an unfamiliar mew...a mew that set me on edge as I saw Angelica coming up the hall from the direction of the basement door...with something in her mouth.  I freaked out steeled myself for her to bring me the lovely "gift" - when I realized that while she, indeed, did have a mouse in her mouth, it was a cloth-covered catnip mouse that her kitty-buddy Bianca had left on her last visit (not intentionally, mind you, Bianca closely guards her toys, except when she hides them and forgets where) (which is not difficult, considering how small the brains of cats are).

Crisis averted - this time.  *sigh*

It's the Little Things

I was driving to the chiropractor's office yesterday, out on the Garrett Shortcut.  As I drove, I was looking at the weeds wildflowers on the side of the road and was taken back in time and place...

...to Somerton, Ohio, where Hal and I first lived together as husband and wife.  We were hosting a gathering of pastors in our home, and Hal had started the ribs.  He offered to go to the store to get flowers.  Now, google maps would tell you that it takes 16 minutes to get from where we lived in Somerton to the nearest grocery store (Riesbeck's, in Barnesville to the north).  They would lie.  Because inevitably, there would be Amish buggies on the road - the curvy, hilly, can't-pass-a-buggy-without-risking-life-and-limb-even-though-the-driver-is-motioning-you-around-because-you-can't-see-what's-coming-around-the-curve-or-over-the-hill road.  I will digress as I remember the morning I got behind TWELVE buggies on the road headed south.  So, it was usually 20-25 minutes at the best, then time in the store (even though the flowers were usually at the checkout line), IF THEY HAD ANY FLOWERS LEFT AT ALL, then 20-25 minutes home.  Because the florist would have been closed at this particular hour and we had failed to call ahead were too darned cheap/broke to buy actual FLORIST flowers at the time.  We were both still in seminary, I was working part-time at my churches, he was earning student-pastor pay. 

So Hal left to go to the store.  About fifteen minutes later he returned with a big grin on his face and a plastic grocery bag he laid on the table.  With weeds wildflowers, roots and all, that he had stopped on the side of the road and grabbed.  I tilted my head and looked at him like he was nuts, and saw his face begin to cloud over.  Realizing that my attitude was hurting him, I grinned, shook my head, and told him that he must have a lot of faith in my flower-arranging abilities.  He grinned again, the clouds left, and said that he believed in me.  I grabbed a bowl and floral foam, then sorted through the Queen Anne's Lace, cornflowers, daisies, and brown-eyed Susans, among others, that he had pulled from a farmer's field on the side of the road, trimmed them, shook off the dirt, ants, and spiders, and put together an arrangement for our table. 

And that day, which I had not thought of in years, came rushing back to me on the shortcut yesterday.  The beauty that Hal brought into my life was not something that money could buy.  It was about being happy with what was right there, free for the taking.  The little inside jokes, the eye contact across a crowded room, the feel of his breath on the back of my neck as he held me...the having to turn away because the smell of my breath after I ate garlic bothered him (you would think a guy NAMED Garlick...but I digress again)...

And I almost destroyed it.  I almost got so wrapped up in my understanding that he would be coming in with BOUGHT flowers, that were actually free of roots, spiders, or ants, that I almost blew off the beauty in the gift he brought me.  The gift of his time, in the middle of cooking a meal, that he took to go and get me flowers to make the table pretty.  The gift of his vision that those rag-tag flowers were more beautiful - and plentiful - than any he could have bought at the store.  The gift of his trust that I would accept his gift in the spirit it was given.  The gift of his trust that I would work with these wildflowers.

Hal gave me a lot of weird gifts over the years - and I gave him a lot of ones that left him scratching his head, too.  It's the little things, folks.  The free, inexpensive, and day-to-day "weeds" that are all around us.  Don't overlook them.  Don't belittle them.  Don't take them for granted.  Welcome them.  Embrace them.  Celebrate them!