Good Bye Fluffy

Fluffy from several years ago.  But I've always loved this picture of him.

   The house seemed extra quiet tonight when Quito and I walked through the door. There was no Fluffy waiting for us, hoping to escape out the door before I could catch him.  

   I set his empty kennel on the floor, with his empty collar and ID tag attached to the door.  I felt I just can’t deal with it right now.  I shed tears today, and actually surprised myself.  I’m crying over a cat!  Hey, don’t judge me, I’m not a cat hater, I’ve always loved the little furry critters.  Fluffy was no exception.  He did annoy me with his constant hair all over my furniture though.  But he made up for his annoying hair, with an occasional jump into my lap, and soft purr rumbling giving me warmth on a cold winter night.  I guess when ever he did jump into my lap I really enjoyed it, cause with Fluffy, it was the exception not the rule.  It meant I was finally allowed into his circle of love.  Even after Kristi left home, it as months before he would acknowledge I even existed.  He was a one person cat. Kristi reigned supreme in his eyes and heart.  When she was no longer around, he finally settled for me for a soft lap, since I was all that was left in the house.

   He ruled over Quito too.  It always amazed me how this maybe 9 pound cat, ruled over a 65 pound dog.  If Fluffy wanted Quito’s bed, he got it, Quito got up and moved somewhere else.  Does Quito realize he’s gone?  Has he noticed he’s not around to pester him?  I don’t think he’s noticed yet.

   I stepped into my sunroom, and expected to see him lying on the freezer, watching the neighbors birds.  Since the neighbor has a big bird feeder, Fluffy has enjoyed this perch all winter watching the birds, hoping to get outside and do some hunting himself.

    So I again say good bye to something I love.  Another empty spot in my heart.  Yah, I know it was only a cat, but you just get use to him being there, and now he’s gone, it’s just another adjustment in my life again.    I do want to thank Fluffy for all the mice he caught, he did his job well.  He thoroughly enjoyed hunting.  He was just being who he was made to be.  Now, I need to follow his example and just be who I am meant to be. I don’t catch mice (thank God!) but hopefully who I am is a blessing to those around me.  

    By the way, Fluffy was originally named “Charcoal” because he looked like the color of charcoal.  His first winter, he got ‘fluffier, and fluffier’ till we couldn’t help but call him “Fluffy”.  I always hoped it didn’t hurt his male ego to be called a less than masculine name, but it so fit him.  

   Good bye, Fluffy, you’ll be missed greatly.

My last picture of Fluffy.  From Sunday night.  He was very sick, and kept crawling into his litter box to sleep.  I guess when a cat is very ill, they'll do this.  It didn't seem like a pleasant place to sleep to me though. 

Living by a Whistle

   I live by a whistle.  That may sound like a strange thing to say, but if you live in a small town like Kenmare, you know what it means. Three times a day the whistle sounds. First at noon then at six pm, then finally the curfews whistle at 9:30.  I know, it's like living in the days of Mayberry RFD, but I actually like it and find it a comfort.

    I do have to confess that when I lived here before, and my oldest son was a toddler, I use to tell him that the whistle at 9:30 pm meant he had to be in bed or the police would come and find him if he was still outside.  It worked for a while to get my little night owl to bed.  He was often concerned when we came home late from some out of town Bible Study that the police were going to come. I assured him that if he was with his mom and dad, he was fine.  Okay, so my one bedtime threat had some flaws.  But it still was an outside governing 'rule' that said, 'you need to be in bed now.'  It was a constant; it was consistent, even when I failed to be.

    Some people like to run from any kind of rules and time order.  They may not break the law, but they'll bend the rules to fit what they want.  This is often the approach people have towards God's Word.  They bend it, and form it into what they want it to say, not necessarily what it says.  Or they just ignore it totally.

    But I find God's Word like the whistle, a constant, a steady, and always there. It's not going to change cause I want it to blow at three pm instead of six.  It's going to stay the same.  It can be my reference point to see if I'm still "on time."

    There are things that can block you for hearing the whistle at times.  Sometimes when you’re working on a job in the house, and there’s other noise around I can’t hear the whistle.  Distractions; things screaming louder than the whistle.  Things in our life can be that way too.  We let the cares of this world, sound louder than God’s Word.  They’re not bad things, they’re just the everyday living, that can get so loud that they drown out the Word of God speaking into our life.  We can’t hear any more through the busyness of life, or the pursuit of other things.

    Sometimes when I’m down in my basement, I can’t hear the whistle blow. The rock walls are just too thick.  So too in life, the walls we put up, keep us from hearing God’s Word speak into our life.

     But then there are times, when I’m quietly working in my office, and I hear the whistle blow, and it reminds me what time it is, and where I’m at in my day.  So too, with God, when we get quiet and hear His Word, it reminds us of where we are in life, and gives us the guidance we need to carry on. For His Word is a light to my path.

 I've decided my life will be way more 'on time' if I live by that whistle.  In other words; living by His Word.  Jesus, the same, yesterday, today and forever. He's my whistle!

   Got to go, the whistle just blew telling me it’s time to be in bed.

      

Happiness was Knowing You

    Last week in the middle of the night, I heard a crash beside my bed. Quito had come into my room, and had knocked something over. Too groggy to check at the time, I failed to inspect till morning light arrived.  What I found was my old purple rodeo clip board case, was laying on the floor beside my bed. I'm not sure how it even had found it's way to my bedroom, (or why I still have it) but there it lay, not having a home yet in my new abode.  Curious as to if there was still anything in it, I opened up the case.  Sure enough the rodeo program from the last rodeo Tyson competed in during High School was still inside, with my various, pens, marker, extra safety pins, for those rodeo numbers that never stayed on your back. But also in the case was an out of place item.  The above drawing that I did when I was 10 years old.  I must have given it to one of my cousins for Christmas, and somehow through the years it has made it's way back to me.  

   Snoopy, he was my favorite.  I would draw Snoopy and all the Charlie Brown characters by the hour when I was that age.  I loved to draw, and especially loved cartoons.  So I would try to draw all my favorites.  During that time, I even came up with my own set of cartoon characters and comic strip.  The Higgins Family was their name. Unfortunately, I have none of those drawings in my possession any more.

    But back to Snoopy.  It was dated Dec 22, 1971, Forty-five years ago today, I had a happy moment in my life, and drew a picture for a gift to my cousin.  My cousins were my best friends growing up.  

    Today, 45 years later, is an anniversary of loosing my very very best friend ever. My cowboy-hubby Todd.  It's been three years since he crossed that veil and entered into his heavenly eternal home, while I stayed behind to figure out what I'm suppose to do in life now, without him by my side.  That empty spot is still there, though the pain somewhat lessened with time.  There isn't a day that goes by, that I don't miss him.  While to others he may be long forgotten, every day is painful reminder to me that he's gone from this present life.  My hope in healing is the knowing that I'll see him again someday, and he's in a far better place than I am right now.  

   Though I can't do the happy Snoopy dance and say, "Happiness is being with you."  I can say, "My life was richer and fuller from being with you. Happiness was knowing you!"  With that, I'm so glad I married that ole cowboy, and had all those adventures together.  We were best friends, pards, and nothing is better than that.  

   Love and miss you Todd.

Facing Fears and a Blank Canvas

Facing the blank canvas

   

   I’ve struggled most of my life with insecurity, which I think is actually intimidation and fear in disguise.  That insecurity of not doing it right or good enough, has kept me from often doing things really in my heart to do. 

   In other areas I often jump in and start doing something not having a clue as to how to do it, but knowing somehow by God’s grace I can.   Recently I met a friend at Mendards when I was buying something to fix something in my house.  I confessed I had no clue how to fix it, but I was gonna try, since I lacked anyone to help me.  My friend laughed and said, “Has not knowing how to do something ever stopped you from anything Kelley?”  I laughed and said, “I guess not.”  But fear has stopped me, in many area from even starting.

    Last year, I found a few portraits stored under Kristi’s bed that I had done in high school. Two in pointillism and one done in coffee.  In High School and College, I was a fairly good artist, but to be truthful, I’ve hardly picked up a paint brush or drawing pencil in years. I’ve done a few quick simple paintings as a sermon illustration but that’s about it.  The other day I was talking to two young girls here in Kenmare about art, and it came out of my mouth, “I’ve had a painting rolling around in my head and heart for a couple of years, but I’m afraid to pick up the brush again, what if I can’t do this anymore?”  At that moment, I identified why I put it off. I was afraid.  Afraid of failure. So one way to make sure I won’t fail is, to never start. Right? Wrong!

   Never starting because I’m afraid, is the same as failing. I’ll never succeed unless I try.  So this afternoon, I faced my fear.  Seriously I was shaking.  Can I still do this?  

   I spent the afternoon and evening at the easel first with a sketch pencil, then with a paint brush and jar of Sanka Coffee.  By the way, this is the same jar of Sanka I used in High School to do that other painting.  Price stamped on top of the jar is: $1.36.  You guessed it, I don’t get rid of things easily, especially if it’s still useful.  And this jar of Sanka was never meant to be drank, only paint with.

   My sketch wasn’t perfect, actually ended up a little ‘squatty’ looking, but I finished about 11 pm.  It is the painting I’ve imagined for the last few years.  It’s not perfect, but it is completed, and that’s the best part.

   I use to have a saying in High School and College the only thing coffee is good for is to paint with.  Tonight I found that true again.  Interesting enough, this past week, I felt strongly from the Lord, not to have any coffee to drink.  Maybe His reasoning was for my health reasons more, but in ‘fasting’ the coffee to drink, I actually found something deep within me again, my love for art and the feel of the paint brush in my hand.  I’d forgotten just how good it feels.  It’s somehow part of finding the Kelley that’s been in hiding, and too fearful to try again.

   I thank God, for this day, when I know I’m set free from that fear that’s holding me back from being who I really am.  Free to let the gift out that’s inside me. Not only in my art, but many other areas.  Cause like all gifts inside people, the gift is not for the one who carry’s it, but it’s for others.  I enjoyed painting a picture, but now others can enjoy the painting too.

   Don’t let fear hold you back from what’s inside.  Open up your heart and let the gift of God within you come out for all to see and enjoy. 

   I also found out, my sun room in my house is the most wonderfully lighted art studio one could ever wish for, well, at least till it got dark outside that is. 

Sketching the rough draft

Finished painting.  Todd and Quito.