The soul in despair

Everyone has, or will, at some point in their lives experience the pits of despair. While the dictionary defines despair as the loss of all hope, I think one must feel terribly alone as well. My most vivid memory of despair was more than 35 years ago. We were building our house near Sherrard, and because the home we sold in Moline closed before we were ready, we were living in a small motel out in the country. It's still there as apartments. 

I fed the kids instant oatmeal and took them to catch the bus at our new property where I spent much of the day varnishing, staining, or whatever task was needed that I could do. We're talking subfloors and no toilet yet, so it wasn't easy. I also tried to keep up with my volunteer duties without benefit of cell phones or email. I remember quite a bit of phone booth calling. As I recall, I was organizing a walk to raise money for a charity among other things. Marvin went to work, then came to the new house to work on it, along with the kids. We cooked supper  over an open fire, then back to the motel for homework and bed. We all remember that work with pleasure, building our home on a hill, clearing brush, future plans for horses and cattle and pigs (even chickens just one year - too messy), and of course dogs and cats. The red fox that followed us on our first walk across our 160 acres was a symbol of all that could be good in that place.

One night Marvin and I decided to leave Frank in charge of his younger siblings and go out for dinner. We argued about one thing or another ... while we share the same values for the most part, sometimes my choices just are beyond his capacity to tolerate or understand. The walk was probably one of them. Can't remember and it's not important. The argument was terrible, and we had to quit when we got back to the motel. So with unresolved anger and pain, I sat on the bathroom floor and wept. Now weeping is different than crying, and sometimes noisier ... certainly with more depth in feeling and need for smothering sobs in a towel. There I am, alone, in despair, praying for relief. And trying to do it quietly so I would not wake up the children who were sharing one of the two beds in the room. I still remember the pain of it. 

Despair has come again for me, and certainly for him, but that's his story to tell. Do I continue to challenge Marvin's patience and understanding? Certainly as much as he challenges mine. Yet we still hang on to our separate truths, as well as find common ground on the most important ones. Neither of us are quitters, so we stayed married, and have found great peace and companionship spiced with a bit of dissonance. Sort of like a good book, fine food, or time with nature.

Even in the pits I always feel a connection with something beyond. Is that God? I like to think so. I know that alone in that bathroom that night, I felt a presence. God finds us no matter where we hide. We all need to step into that light and reflect it on others. The three most important words are "I love you". Or are they "I forgive you." We need to say both of them freely. 

Hope in a meow!

Spook is a hopeful cat, and persistent. Each day, several times per day actually, she stands by the door, looks at me and says "meow", becoming a bit more persistent each time I ignore her until I finally let her out. A few minutes later she's back, looking disgusted that the white stuff is still on the ground freezing her toes. On a warmer day, say 30 degrees Farenheit, she and her mom Oscar (that name is another cat tale) will stay out for an hour or more near the house. They don't wander the ravines in the wintertime. So the small creatures holed up there are safe for now!

Spook has reason for her hopeful attitude as the survivor of a wild animal attack that broke her leg and killed two litter mates when she was tiny. Just her sister Birdy managed to escape unscathed. Spook stayed wild as a kitten while Birdy (yeah, another cat tale) decided she liked us. About half-grown, leg healed but unbending, Spook climbed trees and did other cat things. One day Marvin heard that meow and found her about 15 feet up a tree, stuck on a thorn. Hmmmm, what to do... the tree was in a ravine, and a ladder would not be a safe idea. So he nabbed the dip net and nudged her off the thorn. She fell, of course, expending another of her nine lives, and snarling all the way, went to hide and lick her wounds. 

Meanwhile, Oscar had another 5 kittens that same year, meaning we had 8 unspayed female cats and I shuddered to do the litter math over the coming years. So Marvin got the dip net again, trapped the two snarling wild ones into a cat carrier and we took all three to the vet for spaying. And the litter to find homes for them. Thank God for the Quad City Animal Welfare Center.

Well, the winter of 2007-2008 was cold, so we started letting everyone inside with Sam and Boxy, our so-called indoor cats. Spook and Oscar now think they are housecats too and Spook, lanky and awkward, loves to sit in laps. But she still hopes for the outdoors, and lets me know about it daily. I join her in that hope that warm weather will return in a few weeks (49 days until spring, yeh! but whose counting!).

Spook's courage as a kitten, never daunted by the crippled leg or humans trying to catch her, as well as her hopeful sorties for the Sun are a great example for us to encourage ourselves and others. Whether advising our children, grandchildren, friends, or strangers, even ourselves, we should always pursue dreams, and be not afraid to take risks. Hope is definitely found in Spook's meow and in our dreams. Be courageous! Go for hope!