We haven't seen my Indiecat for over a week.
Yesterday I walked the neighbourhood with missing cat flyers. Posting them to each letterbox, and sending a hopeful prayer along too. It was muggy and hot, even at 7pm and my eyes searched each windowsill for a sign of her, and held back tears.
Today my heart broke a little bit when Amie drew pictures of her "so we wouldn't forget what she looks like".
Then, since Wednesday we've had a stomach bug sneaking around.
From the recovery of one, to the fall of the next.. My days have been spent washing sheets and towels, and cuddling my pale babies, amongst the faint scent of eucalyptus oil which I have been using to disinfect every surface.
It's too easy to slip into woe-is-me mode.
Comforting a sick kiddo at 2am would have been a good excuse to loose my cool, throw my hands up in the air and give up. I echo Job, with his bitter honest complaining (7:11-16 MSG); it's so easy to focus on what is lost, what is hard, what isn't yet healed.
But as faint as the eucalyptus wafting through to my space here as I take a breather, are the promises from the Finder of the Lost, the Healer of the Sick, the Lifter of the Heart.
I read James 5, "What a gift life is to those who stay the course! You've heard, of course, of Job's staying power, and you know how God brought it all together for him at the end. That's because God cares, cares right down to the last detail."; it made me see the details. The weaving of the good, the care, through the good hard slog:
The curls I stroked, the dark eyelashes against pale cheek as she slept next to me.
The extra sleep to sustain me through the day.
The kind words of a neighbour, warmly expressing hope that our cat would return to us.
The packed bags, labeled books, clean shoes, new school dresses, all ready for Monday.
God brings it all together for us in the end.
Colour will return to cheeks, kitties will return to their four-year-old arms.