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A Cat with No Name

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During the month of July, we gals at Heart Matters want to lift the voices of other women who write beautiful blogs.

I'm delighted to re-post a beautifully written blog by Hannah Sorvik Fordice.

“I don’t know who I am! I’m like cat here, a couple of no-name slobs. We belong to nobody and nobody belongs to us. We don’t even belong to each other.”
— Breakfast at Tiffany's
 

"Did you hear a cat too? Or am I crazy?"

My husband and I paused on the sidewalk, our dog Valkyrie, anxiously pulling us backwards toward the river. There in the middle of the sidewalk behind us was the tiniest orange kitten mewing forlornly. My hubby crouched down and low-and-behold that wee kitty ran right up to him and started purring.  

The little dude was probably only 5 weeks old and covered in dirt. We waited for awhile to make sure that momma cat wasn't hiding in the bushes or out on a quick hunt but no one ever showed. So we took a few steps forward and our new furry friend followed right on our heels. We casually walked home, with neighbors gaping at that strange couple walking their giant German Shepherd and small orange kitten. You know, totally normal.  

When we got home we washed the kitten off in the sink, wrapped him in a towel, and gave him some cat food, which he consumed so fast that I had to wonder when his last meal was. My hubby held him, all bundled up, and stroked his ears and he purred his way right into the type of sleep one only experiences when completely safe. 

I can't help but think that me and that kitten have a lot in common. I may not be feline, covered in hair, or orange (except that one time I used tanning lotion wrong), but I am in so many ways seeking safety, sustenance, love and ultimately a forever Home (capital "H"). 

If there is one thing that I have learned over the last five months it is that none of us are invincible and none of us get to escape from this life unscathed by suffering. The more loss I experience the more my size in relation to the world seems to shrink. I have gone from the belief that I am a lion, king of the jungle, to the belief that I am a kitten, vulnerable and lost. 

And not only that, but I am a starving kitten. Starving for affection, attention, meaning, belonging, LOVE. I have the insatiable need to be filled up on something that lasts, something with value that will truly satisfy the hunger. And more often than not, I find myself alone in the middle of a metaphorical sidewalk crying out for somebody to hear me, to fill me, to name me, to make me belong. 

Aren't we all like that? Following after each passing thing, hoping beyond hope that it will lead us Home; yet, all too often we are chasing false owners. We follow popularity, money, style, fitness, recognition, awards, promotions, romance, status, acceptance... and in the end each of them leave us right where we started but just a little more desperate. 

It seems like it was meant to be that my husband and I found that kitten down by the river, like divine intervention that we were there and that he was there and that we even heard him crying out behind us. And maybe it was. The only hope that any of us really has of finding Home is divine.  

There is a God out there who is crouching down on the proverbial sidewalk of life waiting for you to run up to Him and follow him Home. He carries with Him the food that eternally satisfies, the water that washes away the dirt clinging from your past, and He has arms that will make you safer than you've ever been and in which you can find peaceful rest. Not only that but He will also give you a name, an unshakable identity. 

So dear friends, dear lost kittens, stop chasing after birds and cars and squirrels- and instead run into the arms of the one who has been waiting right in front of you all along. Run Home.

Hannah has always been fascinated by the power of words and poetry to convey the deep musings of the heart. A voracious learner, she has a MA in Human Services Forensic Behavioral Health fromConcordia University and experience in program development, event management, and crisis intervention. However, her very comfortable world came to wrenching halt in Feb of 2017 when her dad was killed in a house fire, she miscarried her first child, and her mother-in-law was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Hannah and her husband decided it was time for a priority shift, so she left her job in order to be more present for both of their families on opposite sides of the state. This break in work allowed Hannah to begin writing more frequently and she started her blog, Rubble & Rescue, just two months later. When she is not writing or helping her family you can find Hannah and her hubby enjoying the outdoors with their German Shepherd, Valkyrie.

 

 

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On Baking Bread and Remembrance
Waves
 

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