Where Angels Fear to Tread

The other night at dinner I looked at my husband with tears in my eyes and confessed something that I had never really felt before.  I was having a crisis of faith.   I've always believed that no matter what, God and your guardian angels would have your back.  Even if things didn't turn out as you had hoped, there was a grander plan, a reason you didn't get what you wanted or needed - a lesson that needed to be learned.  But after the massacre at Sandy Hook, I was having doubts about this whole divine intervention thing.  I was angry, sad and felt like everything I believed in had been blown to bits.  Max told me that I needed to stop reading about it on the internet, but even if you didn't read the articles - when you checked your e-mail and you would see the smiling faces of children who were barely out of toddlerhood being buried by their families and a grieving community.   You don't have to read the stories - you could draw your own sad conclusions.   I sat there at the dinner table, just crying for what was the fifth time that day.   At work I would feel the wave of sadness come over me and then would excuse myself to go into a private bathroom and sob.  It turns out there were other women where I work that were doing the same thing.  Max tried to comfort me - told me that the children were in the arms of the angels now and they were safe and feeling no pain.  A part of me knew that, but those last moments of their innocent lives were the ones that grieved me the most.  How the hell could God have allowed this to happen?   Where were their guardian angels when they needed them the most?   Why did this have to happen in the season of love and good cheer when those sweet little ones were excited to see Santa Claus?  Why? WHY?  Please God, why?

I remember the shock of 9/11.  I remember seeing people crying in the street and strangers comforting each other.  I asked why then but at that time there was a common enemy - people from another land who wanted to hurt us in the misguided name of God.   In the days, weeks and months after it happened we found a common resolve, we were united if only for that short period of time before the talk of war surfaced.   But this act is different - for some reason - it's personal.  The actions of the 9/11 terrorists were part of a larger global political unrest that just happened to hurt thousands of innocent people who were just trying to get through their day.    It hurt for a long time and we all felt vulnerable but as we've seen since, there are ways to stop terrorists from getting on a plane with a gun or a bomb and over powering the crew.    A terrorist attack of that scope has not happened since 2001 because the government knew what to do to stop it.  But how do you stop a very disturbed person who is trying to take his rage out on little children and the people who are responsible for them with a gun?  It's too random - too unorganized to try to stop anymore than you could keep a madman from shooting out a movie theatre or a Meet-the-Congressmen event.   This one hit too close to home - it was a school shooting with children who were just infants six years ago.  My God, they never really had a chance to come into their own and that's the real tragedy.   My children are in school - they are the most precious and amazing people I've ever known.  I can't imagine the grief the parents of the 20 children who were shot are going through.  I pray for them which is interesting because that's my default no matter how royally pissed I get at God.   

You hear in times like this, faith sustains you.   But what can you say about a mad man that senselessly mows down the innocent and the virtuous women who tried to protect them?  I would hope the grieving families did not hear - "It's God's will," because as reverent as I try to be, my response would be "Then God's will sucks!"  It hurts to feel this way.   But my soul is wounded and the salve is looking for some higher purpose - a reason in the grand scheme of things of why this would happen.  I imagine that even men and women of God are struggling with this.   Minister Mark Wilson in Hayward, Wisconsin wrote about the shootings in his blog.  He quoted the poet John Blasé who observed, "Of the things that befall us, this one pierces deeper, for the lost are the least of these. The killing of children is the killing of everything."  He also said his most articulate answer for this event was to simply and honestly say "I don't know."   I can respect that.   There is no pat answer and there shouldn't be.  He goes onto say that it's easy to have faith when things are going well, but in the darkest times, you have to ask the uneasy questions.  It's in those dark times that God whispers to you to urge you on - to give you the strength you need even if you are cursing his name in anger like a teenager because I think God understands that and like any compassionate parent, he loves us anyway. 

Some cultures believe in a group soul in that when many people leave the earth in the same place at the same time it's because the agreed to be part a movement to help mankind.  Before they are born, the angels literally give them their marching orders, who they will be in this life and when they will end their days.   No one really remembers that in utero conversation but it gives us certain affinities in life and lessons to be learned.  For instance, no matter how tired I get of working for non-profits and think I want to do something else, I keep coming back.  The reason is probably because my mission is to motivate people to help important causes.   I've tried doing comedy improv full-time, but never with the same success as when it's combined with a day job that makes the world a better place.   When I'm doing both the improv and working for a worthy cause, I feel balanced.   I guess other people have felt that affinity as well.  Good or bad, that's why they are attracted to the things they might help or hurt them - for instance, getting out of an abusive relationship might be the lesson you didn't learn in the previous life.     

My spiritual path is for the most part the road not usually taken.   Yes, I believe in God, Jesus, the legions of angels, and the saints.  I'm definitely a product of my Catholic upbringing.   But I also believe in reincarnation because I tend to believe that God gives us more than one shot to get it right before we finally ascend into heaven.    For me, the soul is an evolving spiritual entity and one lifetime does not give you enough time for your soul to be complete.   I guess I feel like I've been here before beyond this life as a 49-year old mother who works in non-profits and loves to do improv.   I have been able to slip easily into the world of international healthcare and grasped that topic easier than I would have expected.  I've had a few people in the New Age community tell me that I've been here a few times - okay more than a few - anywhere from dozens to hundreds of times.   I've got to wonder when I'm finally going to figure it out and my soul's mission will be accomplished but I guess that's not for me to decide.   It's in times like this that believing in reincarnation helps me cope because I know that the victims of this crime will be back again to make the world a better place. 

What strikes me about this incident is that it's reignited a passion to help that many people were not sure that they had.  Sure we've seen it during the Aurora shooting when all those innocent people were attacked at a movie theater - but they apprehended the shooter and at least there were some answers - some closure.  The shooting at Sandy Hook was just too terrible to put into words.  It especially hit home for anyone who is a parent.  But it has also inspired people to do better, to be better and to love their children more.  It touched New York Giants receiver Victor Cruz.   After learning that he was the favorite player of one 6-year-old victims, he wrote "R.I.P. Jack Pinto," "Jack Pinto, my hero" and "This one is for you" on his shoes for the Giants game against the Falcons in Atlanta this past Sunday.  Before this, he probably knew that kids were fans and that many probably idolized him but now I doubt that he will take that celebrity for granted ever again.  When he was told that Jack would be buried in one of his jerseys - his response was  "I don't even know how to put it into words, there are no words that can describe the type of feeling that you get when a kid idolizes you so much that unfortunately they want to put him in the casket with your jersey on. I can't even explain it."   He even went to the Pinto family with his fiancee and daughter to spend time with them and offer his condolences.   No one told him to do that for PR reasons.  There were no TV cameras documenting what he did - it was just the right thing to do.  He later commented that he knew now "how short life can be, how much you have to cherish every moment, how much you have to cherish every opportunity.  Every chance you get with your family, never take anything for granted because just a day at school can change all that."  If we can all come away with that perspective, then those sweet innocents would not have died in vain. 

So as much my faith is shaken and as much as I am still tearing up at the thought of that horrible day, I know that there had to be a higher purpose.  I don't have a pat answer as to WHY but then I guess I'm not supposed to.  It's not supposed to be that easy.  I know that it's okay to question because other people have those same questions too.  I just know that love will help heal and love is the most powerful emotion there is.   Love trumps hate.   Love trumps anger.  Love gives you the perspective to give more than you ever thought you could physically, emotionally and spiritually.  It's just not all that easy to summon when your heart is broken.    I know that our nation loves and prays for the people of Newtown, CT.  We all share their sorrow.   I know that right now, I'm not as mad at God as I was a few days ago.  I'm grateful for the gifts I have including my wise husband and my two wonderful children.   On Christmas Eve I will pray with all my might that the world will be a better place because of what happened.   I will come back to God like a rebellous teenager who ran away and learned that leaving that home is a cold and lonely existance.  I will step back into the warmth of the light and know that even with all my questions, it's the one place I should never fear to tread. 

Little Miracle

"Bear - I need you to come with the car and pick me up - I found a kitten," was the first time I knew about Kuji. Max, my husband had taken a walk in a park nearby our house and noticed something on the side of the road. It was a small fur ball, so small it was the size of the pine cones that it was next too. "I thought it was dead and said a prayer over it and then the kitten put up it's little head and started to squeak - please bring something to put it in," he asked. I found a shoe box, put a clean towel in it and a piece of fabric as a makeshift crib. A helpless feline infant was abandoned and of course we would help - even though it would have been easy to walk on by as one person did while we were getting her into the car - but that was not God's plan. "I've never seen an animal this small," Daniel, our son, remarked as we drove the short distance home. We got her inside and tried to see if she would take water with a small eye dropper. She was so new to the world that her eyes were not quite open, but her vocal cords worked great and she was squeaking up a storm. Since she was so small, I checked the internet for guidance. She was at best 10 days to two weeks old which is a tough age when most kittens do better with their birth mothers for at least six weeks. The kids kept asking what was going to happen and if we were going to keep her. "I really just want to take it a week at at time," I said. "Kittens this age need their mothers and something must have happened or maybe she was just a abandoned but whatever might have happened before, God trusts us to take care of her now." We assumed she was a girl but it's pretty hairy down there - so was hard to tell.

Max donned some surgical gloves and tried to get her to drink a bit.   We called an animal hospital to see if they would take her but found out that they don't take kittens that age that have been abandoned but I got some good advice on what to get her.   Me and the kids went to Pet Superstore to get kitten formula, bottles and some special kitten wipes.  The kids still kept asking if we would keep her and again my answer was that she was so little we had to get her to that six week point to really know for sure.   I told myself not to get too close because there was a chance she would not make it but put on a positive face for the kids.   We got home with the powdered formula and she took some of it but going from mother's milk to a bottle even for a human baby is hard  - but eventually we found our stride.  She would drink a teaspoon at a time and that seemed like a huge milestone.   Max posted photos of her on his Facebook page but I didn't.  I was too afraid something bad would happen to take that chance.  

I got up in the middle of the night to check on her and see if she would take some formula.  I thought my days of late night feedings were over but this little one needed the help.  There I was in the bathroom holding her tight and hoping she would take a few drops of formula.  I wondered how long she had been out there and if she would have died if we hadn't found her on the pavement on a scorching Atlanta day.   Max wanted to call her Kuji which means "Nine Powers" and it seemed fitting - she had the power to get the side of the road.  I thought about how her guardians angels had guided Max to find her and bring her here as I sat in the stillness of the night with the white noise of the AC and the warmth of her little body up against mine.  "Don't get too close, there is a chance she won't make it," my brain kept telling me, but in my heart I was already falling in love.   My kids were getting older and didn't need me as much and this little being needed as much help as she could get.  I felt needed.   That Monday, Amber had a cold so she was able to stay home with Kuji but she was not taking formula and Amber was getting stressed.   Max came home after 4:00 p.m.  and got her to pee which really made me smile as I listened to her progress at work - she's had a number one now just a number 2 and I'd be totally happy.  Ah, parenthood - you worry about gross stuff like that.  I got home and we went to the pet store to get the cans of formula which she might like better.   It worked, she drank it and then would retire to her shoe box with a Body Comfort warm pad and fresh towels.   She's squeak in the middle of the night when she wanted to be fed and it was like taking care of an infant all over again. 

It was three days after we got her that I mentioned Kuji on Facebook - many of our friends knew about her through Max's Facebook postings, encouraging us and giving advice which we appreciated.   That Tuesday, she drained her morning bottle and then promptly peed on me.   Oddly enough that made me happy since it meant that her body was functioning well.  Her eyes were now fully wide open and it was like she couldn't wait to see everything she could in her little world.  I felt like she was starting to get healthier on her way to being a permanent member of our household.  She was crawling out of the shoe box and needed the tall sides of a laundry basket to keep her out of harm's way.  Our two other adults cats, Sonny and Vanilly didn't know what to make of her - they just kept their distance.  They never hissed or growled.  Vanilly would try to touch her and get about an inch away and then would back away when she squeaked.   Sonny would get up on the couch and look down at her crib and keep an eye on her.   She went to the vet's five days after we got her.  She was robust and all over the place.  The vet was impressed at how well she was doing and give us a vaccination schedule since they really couldn't to much for her until she was six weeks old.   She got a clean bill of health and now I cast my concerns aside could really love on that little girl because it seemed like she would be with us for a while.  

At the end of the work week, I had promised to do a teen retreat with my Unitarian Church and spend the night at the retreat.  I hated being away from the family and little Kuji but she was doing so well and the rest of the family needed to bond with her too.   Many of the people at the retreat asked me how she was doing and I had the photos that Max was posting on Facebook to show them.   I just felt so happy that she was doing well and that she was our little miracle.   I sat there thinking of her even as the teens at the workshop tried to figure their own spiritual path - some believing, some not and some complaining that we were talking about God too much at church because they'd rather just come here to hang out with their friends.   You gotta love Unitarians - talking about the importance of church and raging against the machine at the same time.   I left the retreat that Saturday afternoon happy to be back at home with the family and the animals that I loved.   I held Kuji against my chest and fed her - Max told me that she really responded to me more than anyone else in the family and that made me smile.  I loved the feeling of her little body against my chest.  She was squeaking, and walking around and telling everyone about it.   I let her fall asleep on Amber's chest and it felt like after a little less than a week we were finding our equilibrium with the new kitten.   I let her sleep in the laundry basket with Amber and Daniel who were camped out on beds in the living room after her midnight feeding.   When she fussed in the middle of the night - they brought her to me and I was happy to fed her and kiss her - everything seemed very normal. 

The next morning I went in to see how she was doing.  She opened her eyes and looked very contented.   She was purring now and it just seemed like things were progressing as they needed to.  But a few hours later,  I noticed that her head seemed misshapen - I touched the top and it was soft.  Worse, she was not talking or squeaking - she was just very quiet but active.   Her walking had gone from very sprite-like to sideways and she was falling down.    Something had happened and I asked if anyone had dropped her on her head, but no one had.    She wanted to sleep more and I would check on her while I was finishing my blog - ironically - we had gotten her a week before just as I had finished another blog.    I could feel in the pit of my stomach that this was bad, but how could she have developed this in less than 12 hours?   Later that day, an abscess formed on her head and began to drain.  I put warm washcloths on it to help and antibiotic cream but she started to get weaker.   She would still take a bottle which was encouraging but her walking was very unsteady.  Worse, my work week was filled with Board Meetings, rehearsals and an open house that I had to be at.   That Monday before work, I got her to take about a tablespoon of formula and she peed and was walking - albeit unsteadily.   I got her cleaned up put in fresh linens, made sure her heating pads were warm and talked to her sweetly with tears running down my face before I went to work.   Daniel would see how sad I was and told me she would be okay as he hugged me out the door.  I would call Amber in the afternoon after she got home from school to find out how she was doing and Max would give me an update when he got home.  The guilt of not being there was huge - but I was in a new job and taking time off for a sick kitten didn't seem like a good reason to miss work.   She was not much better or taking much formula that night and the next day she was getting weaker.   It all seemed so harsh - I mean we found her for a reason.  We were supposed to have her for a long time - not just a week - why was God doing this to us?   So I would try to feed her multiple times from 5:30 a.m. to 9:00 a.m. when I left hoping she would rally.   Max was posting updates on Facebook and the response was always so kind - so many people were praying and pulling for her.  

I had to work late for a Board meeting that Tuesday and got home around 8:30 p.m.   I held her tight and she'd take a little formula - again perking up when she heard or saw me.  That night Max and I were holding her and crying.  I tried to make sense of it all - she was so healthy just a few days ago and now it was clear that it was only a matter of time.   I asked him if her being with us was just a transit to another life and that she needed to experience unconditional love in this life - even if it was for a short time so that she could take that into her next one.   He nodded and said that had to have been it and that the real tragedy would have been if she had died on the side of the road without ever knowing how much she could be loved.   Intellectually I knew that and it should have filled me with joy to know that we had helped her but sitting there holding this little life that was ebbing away, it was hard to get my heart to heed that lesson because it was breaking in two.   We let the kids know that Kuji might not make it and that miracles might happen and she might rally but that it didn't look good.  Daniel just said that he just didn't want to think that way and she would be fine - that's my son the optimist.  We made sure he got a chance to hold her and try to feed her. 

The next morning, which was a Wednesday, I got up and Kuji was getting weaker and weaker.  I Facebooked that she was not looking good and got some very sweet responses from people who had gone through the same thing and wanted to let us know that we were doing everything we could and to be gentle with each other.   I again kissed her and put her out in the living room before I went to work so that if she did pass, the other cats would be nearby and she wouldn't be alone.  Vanilly would rub against the laundry basket and Sonny would lay on the top of the couch looking down on her and making sure she was okay.  I would go into the bathroom at work and cry so that no one would know what was wrong.  It wasn't that they would not have been sympathetic but I just didn't want the flood gates opening every time someone asked how the kitten was.   I got home that night and held her and she put her little paws up to me.   I got her to take a little more formula before the actors came over for rehearsal.   It was a small group - just Mike and Becca.  Amber brought her out and they got a chance to see our little kitten who was so weak and fragile.   Doing improv helped me - because it seemed like I had spent so much of the week crying it was nice to laugh for a change.  Vanilly kept jumping into scenes which was funny.  I think he needed the attention since we had all been so focused on the little one.  At the end of the rehearsal, Max brought Kuji down to the garage while he was painting.  Later, Mike, Becca, Max and I talked about her and that she might get better but I was not holding out much hope, she could not even lift her neck at this point.  I took her upstairs and tried to get her to take a little water which she seemed able to do - I just wanted her hydrated and maybe things might get better.   

On Thursday morning I was surprised that she was still with us.   I made sure the kids got a chance to hold her and hug her because I was not sure if she would be here when they got home.   My prayer was that she would not pass before they got home.   I got ready for work and yet another afterwork event.   I kissed her and sang "This Little Light of Mine" to her.   I made sure she was warm and clean and put her crib in the sunbeam on the couch.   Vanilly and Sonny were nearby now acting as guardians.  I left again, not sure if I would see her alive and wanting so badly to stay and wishing this had happened while I still unemployed so that I could take care of her the way I was able to take care of our cat Skittles before he died back in November.   Waiting to call Amber was so hard - and when she answered she was crying and I was crying.   Kuji was still alive but barely.   I wanted to go home but was too afraid to ask to leave and at least there were people home with her.   Max came home to the sight of both kids sobbing.   He tried to give Kuji some water and brought her up to our bedroom so she could be near him.   I had to go an open house and called before I left - he told me she was still with us and I thought that she might wait until I came home to leave.   I went to the open house which actually made me feel a little better and called around 8:00 p.m. to see how she was doing.   Max told me to come home and didn't say much else.  When I walked in the door, Amber was on her computer and things seemed normal so maybe I was still in time.  Max appeared at the top of the stairs and just shook his head.   "She's gone?" I said choking back tears that I was sure I had completely expended.  "At about 6:00 p.m., I didn't want to tell you while you were driving, but she's still upstairs if you want to see her."  I tore up the stairs and saw my little Kuji who looked she was sleeping but she was no more.   Max told me that when he told the kids she was gone, their first instinct was to hug each other.   So we sat around and cried and held her for one last time.  I then handed her to Max who had a spot in the garden picked out under a  rose bush on the other side where Skittles was buried.   Me and kids held hands and sang "This Little Light of Mine" one last time to her.    

We let our friends on Facebook know that Kuji was gone and the response blew my mind.   People who I hadn't heard from in long time expressed their condolences.   That's the thing about human nature - there is something about a helpless sick animal infant that brings out the sympathetic feelings in even the toughest person.   Max and I got loads of well wishes and it really did help to know that so many people were caught up in the Kuji story and prayed for a happy ending and now they shared our sorrow.   

I made it a point to tell the kids that even though our hearts were broken it was important that Kuji was with us for the short time that she was.   If we had known how sad this ending was when we first met her, we would still do it all over again, because you can't turn your back on helping the helpless whether they are animal or human.  The easy thing would have been to walk on by and hope that someone else would take care of it but that's not us and it never will be.   It's still so fresh and I know that time heals all wounds.  It's been a hard weekend and  we tried to do some fun things this weekend like bowling, going to the food truck park in Atlanta and river tubing just to try to keep our spirits up.    I gave away the laundry basket with some donated clothes that Kuji slept in not to forget her but just looking at it made me just too sad.  So now you know about the abandoned little kitten that might have died nameless and loveless and thought that no one cared.   But we cared, we loved and yes - we lost.  I kept thinking of that verse from the bible, Matthew 25:31- "For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in ...Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these, you did for me."  My prayer for her now is that she will love as deeply in the next life as she was loved in this one.   She was our little miracle with the big heart.