Thursday, September 18, 2014

Still acting on faith -- and no more Jazz (:

Less than a week after I was so surprised and giddy to unexpectedly have a kitty, I am once again a cat lady without a cat.

I'm still trying to make sense of it all.

I am praying and trusting God.

Some of the issues involved are too personal or hard to understand -- much less describe -- to write about on a blog.

But there are some things I want to chronicle, for my record.

Having a kitty makes me happy. There is a void in my life and house when I don't have a kitty.

Having a kitty stirs complicated emotions within me and also some areas of tension with my spouse.

This may have been a catalyst -- to remind us to face some things we had not dealt with in more than a year and a half without a cat. In less than a week, and without Gene even being here, it was clear those issues still exist.

I've been kidded about overthinking things. But this seems to confirm what I fear will happen when I am spontaneous.

As I said, I'm still trying to make sense of it all. Yes, I was impulsive last Saturday in saying I would take her. But I've seen in the past year or so where planning gets my husband and me (too often, that's nowhere!), so I guess I decided it was time to try something spontaneous. Prayerfully, yes, but ultimately, trusting what seemed to be a nudge from God.

I cannot express how much I wanted this to work out. But some troublesome realities of the situation began to emerge quickly, and new challenges arose each day.

Eventually, just as clearly as I had felt I was supposed to welcome the kitty, I knew I needed to be willing to let her go. The major factor was that I was having to leave a less than 4-month-old kitty alone too many hours of the day in a house she was unfamiliar with. She was developing some bad habits, and I wasn't with her enough to channel her energy more positively. My attempts to teach her in our limited time together seemed to be making her afraid of me.

My friend had mentioned in passing that someone else had said they wanted the kitty (after I had her), so Wednesday, I called to find out more about that. This is how my mind works: I want the kitty, but now I'm aware that taking her may have been a mistake -- and what if someone else is supposed to have her? And how will I know? Unfortunately, this wasn't any clearer after our conversation. But I think my friend was now concerned about whether my home and I were a good fit for the kitten she called Minnie and I had renamed Jasmine/Jazz/Jazzy. She said she would find out if the other person was still interested on Friday.

But on Thursday, I received a text saying she might have a home for the kitty. And by 3, she just needed to know when I would be home so she could come get her. And by 7:30, that adorable, playful precious Jasmine, the Jazzy Jazz cat, was gone from my home.

Among the things I've learned or relearned:

--It doesn't matter if I have a cat six days or 13 years, and whether the kitty is dying or going to a new home, letting go is hard.

--I would not sacrifice the time with her to avoid the pain of letting go and renewed loneliness of again having a catless home.

--I can have faith without understanding. I believe God is at work in all things -- and that He is working for good.

At least I feel certain she is going to a loving home. All of my other experiences of letting go of a kitty have involved death.

Sometimes I can get my mind around it: There's no reason to be so dramatic and emotional. I realized I'm gone too much; I hadn't planned this out with my husband -- and now someone else had expressed a desire to have the kitty. I should be and am grateful.

But then the sadness returns.

After five days of sharing pictures and upbeat posts on Facebook about this wonderful kitty, today I offered this: Sadly, my latest kitty update is not very Jazzy. I gave the kitty -- now Miss Minnie again -- back to my friend who brought her. I guess it just wasn't meant to be. I do view the few days I had her as a precious gift from God. I pray her new home will be a better fit. ... I'm sad, disappointed -- and still grateful. Sigh.

And I'm still trying to make sense of it all.

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