Macy the Mall Kitty

Macy in her new home with Blair

Several months ago, my husband, Carn, heard the plaintive, sad cry of a kitten when he reached the entrance to Macy's department store at our local mall.  Peeking out among the shrubs near a huge trash bin was an adorable calico cat who appeared to be about four months old and desperately wanted some attention.  When he attempted to approach her she scurried away into the depths of the greenery.  She had obviously  been abandoned and left to survive on her own.  Carn often walks in the mall for exercise, so being both a cat lover and soft-hearted, he decided to use the same entrance to the store over the next few days to see if he might encounter her again and, of course, he did.

It was spring and the weather was pleasant enough for her to be outside but he wasn't sure how she was getting food and water. He didn't want her to starve, so a couple of times he bought her a sandwich from a nearby fast food place until I convinced him it would be much more economical to bring her dry cat food. He started to leave food for her every day and she began to make an appearance as soon as he put a bowl out for her.  Spring turned into summer and they became well acquainted.  Even though she would come close and greet him with a hearty meow when he had cat food in his hand, she wouldn't let him touch her.

My husband soon discovered there were others who shared his concern and they too would feed her from time to time, but none as faithful as he.  She became his "mall kitty" and he always carried food for her in the trunk of his car.  As colder winter weather approached, he had serious concerns about her survival.  Through friends at a cat-rescue center where I volunteer, an arrangement was made with the city animal shelter for the kitty to be captured and re-homed.  An employee at Macy's, a young lady named Blair, had also been worried about the tiny outcast's welfare and had been trying to gain her trust so she could catch her. She and my husband met by chance one day as Carn arrived with his bowl of cat food.  She was thrilled when he told her of the impending rescue and told him she had already decided to adopt this sweet little creature.

A few weeks passed.  One day after work, Blair stopped by to check on the kitty and noticed the animal rescue group in the process of attempting to trap her.  The terrified cat hid under the massive Macy's trash bin and couldn't be persuaded to come out.  Blair sat on the curb near her for two hours, talking reassuringly to her until the kitten finally felt safe enough to crawl out.  She was allowed to adopt her quickly and inexpensively from the shelter because she had been so helpful.  Within days, the homeless kitty had a name, Macy (naturally) and a warm and welcoming place to live.  And Carn breathed a sigh of relief.

I've heard people ask if spending time worrying about and rescuing animals makes sense when there are so many humans in the world who are in drastic need of help.  And that's a valid question. Obviously the needs of people should never be neglected.  However, the rest of creation is not unimportant to God.  I'm reminded of Jesus' beautiful and validating words in Mt. 10:29 "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father's care...." NIV. While Jesus goes on to say people are worth more than many sparrows, he, with an added touch of tenderness, also reveals the Creator's intentional concern for diminutive sparrows. Amazingly, God actually knows when each one falls to the ground and dies. Though seemingly insignificant and monetarily valueless, they are still within the "Father's care."

Noticing the helplessness of abandoned and abused animals softens hearts, drawing kindness and a desire to nurture from people. Participation directly or indirectly brings a feeling of satisfaction and usefulness. Rescue volunteers and facilities are altruistically devoted to the welfare of animals. And when "furever" homes are found, the happy new owners of these rescued pets then become recipients of the pleasure and companionship these adoptees bring. Godly traits are at the core of the entire process. It's a beautiful cycle of God's goodness reaching far and wide and a poignant reflection of the "Father's care" for his whole  creation.

Little Macy, the discarded mall kitty, found a lovely caring owner in Blair.  But wait! That's not the end of the story.  Blair already had two other aging rescue cats.  One fell ill and was being stressed out by the energy of the new kitten.  So we arranged for Macy to move in with our super-fun granddaughter, Jayci, and her new husband, Alex.  Macy now has undivided attention, her own princess bed and pink toys. Her fuzzy presence brings affection and warmth to her "new" new home. And my husband is as pleased as he can be to have been a part of her rescue.  Now what's wrong with that?  Any time we are able to help ease the world's suffering, even if it comes in the form of an abandoned kitten with a cute orange nose struggling to survive under a department store trash bin, it's all good.

Jayci and Macy in her "furever"  home

Self-Talk

We all engage in self-talk, either in our minds or out loud.  Anyone ever catch you talking to yourself out loud?  A little embarrassing.... Not too long ago as I emptied my cart in a grocery store line, a young man nearby overheard me mumbling to myself  because I had forgotten an item while shopping and it was too late to do anything about it. When I looked up and noticed him, he just smiled and said:  "Don't worry.  I do it too."

Self-talk was the topic of a recent TV discussion among experts on the subject and it was stated: "Whatever you say to yourself, you will believe." Now if I only said positive things to myself that would be one thing, but I have a habit of bad-mouthing "me." I always assumed it was harmless to casually call myself derogatory names like stupid, dummy, loser or in a moment of disgust use adjectives which label me as unlovable or unforgivable or irredeemable --insulting things I would not choose to say to someone else. If I did say the same degrading and demoralizing words to another person, it could be internalized by that individual and have an emotionally damaging impact.  That's what bullies do.  In a way, being verbally abusive to myself is a form of bullying.

So why have I given myself permission to use such undignified language in reference to me? What made me think the self put-downs which flooded my mind wouldn't affect me the same way they would affect others?

Think about it for a moment. If we didn't believe what we say to ourselves, we probably wouldn't say it, right?  But here's the problem. Regularly telling myself I'm a loser affects how I feel about myself. The way I feel is the way I will act. Those of us who participate in habitual self-deprecation in our thoughts and conversations with ourselves have either failed to remember or never realized it does leave a detrimental imprint on our spirit and impedes the degree of effectiveness we can have in our interaction with family and the rest of the world.

Of course, there are deeper, underlying issues that prompt a person to bully him or herself.  When we forget our lives have value and dignity, we have forgotten the source of that value and dignity.  So we may need a reminder of how God sees us and why he created us, giving us a truly energizing, fulfilling and unique purpose in life. In his eyes no one is unlovable, unforgivable or irredeemable. Some may have never heard this good news. Our Creator doesn't have the same dim view of us that we may have of ourselves.  We are, after all, his beloved children.

When I became more conscious of my habit of self-ridicule, I made it a point to try to catch myself before the insults came fully to mind or out of my mouth.  Wow!  What a difference it has made! If this is something you identify with, you might want to give it a try.  What I am suggesting is not a quick fix that will answer the bigger question as to why a number of us don't seem to like ourselves very much. It merely involves an initial tweak in our thinking that could, however, lead to more serious sifting and sorting and searching of our hearts to uncover why we feel free to put ourselves down on a persistent basis.

Hopefully it is understood I am not invalidating the genuine moments of disappointment or discouragement  or the seasons of grief that life brings.  And I am absolutely not implying we shouldn't recognize and take responsibility for mistakes we make or sins we commit.   I'm "just sayin'" it sure helps not to repeatedly call ourselves ugly names because it's so not true. It's counterproductive and a waste of breath.

I have been personally surprised at how a relatively small thing like giving up negative self-talk has restored some dignity I lacked.  And having a more positive identity generates more positive reactions toward others. I suspect I will never stop sifting and sorting the accumulated stuff in my heart to discern "why" I've treated myself this way but refraining from self-bullying makes the process a whole lot easier.

Stepping into My Own Shoes

When my oldest daughter was preparing to move into her college dorm as a freshman in the early 80's, we had so much fun putting her wardrobe together.  We bought some pretty outfits, I made a few clothes for her by hand and on one shopping trip, we found the cutest lavender boots.  They resembled cowboy boots, but were a pinkish-purple suede with a cool feminine design on them.  She was so excited!  We got her all settled in and then school started.

Sadly, it wasn't long before she was reprimanded by school authorities for wearing those adorable boots.  This was only the first of several hurtful criticisms about her appearance. She was finally told she needed to blend into the crowd and "be like the other girls."

My sweet daughter was full of creativity and imagination. She wasn't overbearing at all, nor did she dress immodestly.  She just had a sun-shiny, fun outlook on life and she loved expressing her personality by wearing pretty things. But somehow this did not go over well in the straight-laced environment of her Bible college campus. By insisting she stop wearing her lavender boots some members of the administration were indirectly asking her to step into someone else's shoes.

Over the years, I've come to realize I spent much of my own life trying to fit into someone else's shoes.  It was like I had a whole closet full of shoes, some of them were really gorgeous, but none of them were mine.  And all of them felt uncomfortable. By ignoring my own individuality and trying hard to blend into the crowd,  I wasn't trying to be the best me I could be. So I became dissatisfied with who I was, shutting down emotions and natural expressions of my personality. One look at the  fabulous and diverse creation surrounding us should be enough to show us the Creator never intended that we all be just alike.  How boring is that?  We each have a mixture of distinctive natural traits and specific talents not to be denied that make us unique.

What it took for me to wake up was realizing (1) God created me to be me; (2) I have value in his eyes the way he made me and (3) I have a purpose for being on this earth.  An in depth study of Jesus, revealing how he, with great care,  singled people out in a crowd, gave them visibility and validated their existence opened my eyes.  Why would he bother to create the fascinating and multi-faceted human race if our lives were meant to be blah, meaningless, colorless and without individual purpose and impact?

I'm happy to report my adult daughter now figuratively wears her infamous "lavender boots" any time she wants.  And her own daughter, my newly-married granddaughter, thankfully has never had to struggle to "fit into her own shoes."  I think I've discovered my own particular version of "lavender boots" as it were and and am finally convinced it's OK to wear them.  I'm now enjoying figuring out how to be the best me I can be, not at the expense of others, but for the sake of others.  So step into those shoes, whether they're worn-out running shoes or sparkly five-inch heels or both.  Just make sure they're yours and they fit and enjoy being the best you you can be!

My daughter with her own daughter who most assuredly steps into
 her own shoes, usually sparkly ones....

My Little Corner of the World

There was a party going on in heaven, a jubilant celebration and the only humans who caught a glimpse of it were a few terrified lowly shepherds.  Here's what they witnessed.  The glory of heaven broke through the skies as Jesus was born in Bethlehem.  An angel stood in the midst and made the greatest declaration the universe would ever hear--the savior of the world was finally born!  In the glistening light that pierced the darkness, a great company of angelic beings then suddenly appeared.  They all sang loudly and triumphantly: "Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests."  They had been waiting for this moment in time from the foundation of the world.

The angels sang of peace brought to earth by this tiny infant, son of God and son of man.  But, looking at the world around us, one has to wonder, peace?  What peace?  Usually we think of peace as a socio-political phenomena dependent upon world leaders and global treaties. And, of course, that will happen universally when the Prince of Peace finally returns to our planet.  But most translations of this scripture similarly indicate the peace that Jesus was to bring was for those "on whom his favor rests."  That would seem to be referring only to those who are already in a relationship with Jesus.  Is it exclusive to believers?  Or is it supposed to start with believers?

"Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me" are words from a familiar song.  Though it sounds simple, individual attempts at ordinary everyday peacemaking are not easy.  How does peace on earth begin with me?

Everyday life can be overwhelming with lots of things that are out of our control: events, circumstances and especially the actions and reactions of those around us.  So here's a good place to start--taking responsibility for the energy that is in our own personal space.  I love the imagery of managing the energy in my space, i.e. realm of influence.  For the longest time I didn't recognize I had my own space. I always thought I was in someone else's space.  So when I first heard it expressed in those words, it really spoke to me.  It simply means monitoring our reactions to what is taking place around us.  When the vibes in our own little corner of the world are peaceful, conciliatory and gracious, then this will positively spill over onto those around us and they will experience the peace of Jesus no matter who they are.

I think we become accustomed to, or comfortable with, our negative reactions toward a lot of day by day stuff that goes on in our space. More often than not, we think it doesn't matter.  We may feel justified in responding curtly on the phone or impatiently with a family member.  I'm kidding myself if I think my huffing and puffing and grumbling to myself when the garage door isn't working AGAIN doesn't affect someone within earshot at home.  Watching my husband retreat to his office is proof of that.

We can all rather quickly come up with our own list of pet peeves and annoyances--people who take forever at a checkout; unsolicited opinion-givers;  people who love bickering; noisy neighbors; grumblers; people who can't make up their minds; worry warts; people who are unresponsive; people who are rude; party poopers; people who are 24/7 annoying and the list goes on...right?

Here's the good thing though--don't miss this...a peaceful reaction to life's little irritants makes us less apt to end up on someone else's annoying-people list.  No one wants to be a pet peeve A-lister.

The same heavenly peace, planned from the foundation of the world and that Jesus brought to the earth, miraculously resides in those "on whom his favor rests."  That's amazing, isn't it?  But here's the deal. It's meant to spill over from your realm of influence into someone else's space.  That means it's contagious.  It will "spill over" any time we have a peaceful, conciliatory response to an otherwise bothersome or contentious invasion of our  individual space.  It can be in a kind word to a harried checkout clerk.  It will show up when bickering is avoided.  It's there in the form of patience expressed toward someone who can't make up their mind.  It soothes when rudeness is overlooked.

None of us will be able to pull this off 100%.  But hopefully sharpening our awareness of the need to become peacemakers within "our space" will help.  "Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me," in my little corner of the world.  How's the energy in your corner?

Beauty...not the Beast

Beauty and the Beast--such a beloved fairy tale.  One of my several ultra-talented granddaughters played the  role of Beauty in her annual middle school musical production.  In fact, her physical resemblance to Beauty as portrayed in the Disney movie was striking.  The student who performed  the role of the  Beast eventually turned out to be her first boyfriend in real life.  So not only was the play a success, there were happy endings all around!

Speaking of beasts, when I was a child I had the misfortune of being labeled as someone with "the mind of a beast."    That's not very nice, you say.  Well, I have to agree with you there.  I mean, I was rather spoiled, I must admit.  But that's a far cry from having a beastly mind.  Being impressionable and young, this misnomer left a lasting negative imprint regarding how I felt about myself.

It all stemmed from a terribly convoluted misunderstanding of Old Testament scripture referring to ancient Israel and how the surrounding "gentile" nations were perceived.  The inaccuracy led to a modern application of some ethnic groups being regarded as inherently superior to others by dent of birth.  And, though not widespread, the notion that some nations had "mind of a beast" tendencies surfaced in the former teachings of my denomination. This only added insult to injury and the damage was done. It's not a new concept for sure.  Religious discriminatory views, whether inadvertent or not, have been around for centuries and can sadly still be found.  I should mention this happened to me decades ago and in no way reflects the current belief system of my denomination.

Because I was a child, of course I lacked the wisdom and experience to sift through and recognize faulty, foolish information.  So for years, I was convinced I was inferior and even a little freaky simply because of the ethnic background I inherited the day I was born.  I always had the feeling I was on the outside looking in.

OK, enough of the beast, where's the beauty?  It's Jesus!  He leveled the playing field forever.

In the homes and streets and marketplaces of first century Judea, there was a marked class system.  Most members of that society found themselves on the outside looking in.  Though the entire nation was under Roman occupation, wealth, education and political favoritism awarded a small number of them the upper hand and superior lifestyles.  The rich, privileged and authoritarian religious leaders strutted among the people, adorned in their holiness by virtue of their own righteousness.  They always sat proudly in front row seats.  Religion was a thing of endless, impossible-to-achieve rules. The exhausted weary masses were weighed down with little or no hope of ever rising above their inferior status.  And some, such as the insane, slaves, lepers, women and children and "gentiles" were considered less than inferior.

Then Jesus was born in their midst and walked the dusty roads and byways of ancient Judea.  He was more interested in people than pomp and pageantry or pedigree.  The core of his ministry was then and still is to draw all humankind unto himself.  As he moved through the crowds of untouchables, sinners, mentally disturbed, poor, hungry, needy, diseased, scorned, fearful, helpless, brokenhearted--what stands out is his humility and warmth, his tenderness and compassionate outreach. He tells the rejected and heavy burdened to come to him so he can give rest to their souls.  He doesn't ever discriminate but is instead relentlessly redemptive--freeing everyone from what distresses or harms, releasing humanity from debt and blame.  He created us all.  He loves us all.

When I discovered the beautiful, unconditional acceptance of Jesus, the negativity that I had assigned to myself as a child because of my ethnicity began to dissolve. I finally "got it"and am turning that chapter in my life into a brand new one.  The personal impact of this transformation is every bit as dramatic as the gruff, clumsy old beast in the fairy tale changing into a charming prince.

Movin' on up...

"Movin' on up to the East Side..."  Catchy words from the theme song from the old 70's American sitcom The Jeffersons who finally got a piece of the pie.  They lived in New York City, worked hard and moved up the ladder of financial success.  That's a model for a lot of things in life--business, entertainment, sports and can be worthwhile.

But back in the 60's when I was a young bride and brand new pastor's wife, lo and behold within our church denominational structure there was a wobbly ladder in front of us we were expected to climb.  It involved an elaborate hierarchical system with ranks (levels of achievement) that quickly spiraled out of control though it looked good on paper.  A pastor earned a higher rank usually based on performance and sometimes tenure and now and then a little bit of luck as to who he knew.  Each promotion provided "greater" authority and more prestige than the previous.  After all, if it works in the secular world, it should work in the ministry, right?  Wrong....

It produced stress, pressure, favoritism and performance comparison--an atmosphere that could easily sideline a heartfelt attitude of service and individual gifting which should define a pastor.  It generated an unfortunate layer of anxiety fostering doubts as to whether or not the "powers that be," including God, were displeased with someone who failed to be promoted to the next level.  Was that an indication he was less spiritual?  Maybe he had a secret sin.  Uh oh....

And it went to silly extremes at times.  While training for a year under a minister with a higher rank, my husband had to be super careful not to order restaurant menu items that cost more than his superior's;  otherwise he'd be in big trouble.  And I remember once we had to drive a cheap, temporary rental car that was slightly beat up to a church convention.  A fellow pastor expressed sincere concern. He was worried my husband had been demoted.  It all became exhausting.  I'd like to say none of it had a negative impact on me personally, but that wouldn't be true.  The problematic laddered structure was eventually dismantled within our denomination because it didn't work.

Being overly focused on promotion is not a new concept.  There is a gospel story describing a mom who felt comfortable enough with Jesus to ask him if her two grown sons, who were also disciples, could have top positions of authority during his reign as Messiah.  Jesus cautioned her and her sons, saying he didn't think they really grasped what they were asking.  They insisted they understood--no problem.  The conversation was within earshot of the other disciples and tempers flared.  Insults, accusations and bickering broke out over exactly who should be the "greatest."  Jesus had to step in and break up the fight.

Jesus' heart must have been heavy because after being with him day in and day out, his disciples still didn't get it.  And this "who is greatest" issue had come up before.  The disciples thought they needed to be in charge, maybe even "lord it over" a few people.  The Lord patiently explained to them they were missing the point.  They were already doing what they had been called to do; following Jesus and assisting him in his ministry.  Anyone wanting to be "greater" among them needed to have the humility and attitude of a servant.


To further clarify their misconception, Jesus also told them that he, the Son of God, the Lord of Lords didn't come to earth to "lord" it over others, or to be served.  He came to serve, to love and redeem and be a ransom for many.  It wasn't necessary for one disciple to be deemed greater than another.  They didn't need a promotion ladder and there was certainly no room for "movin' on up."  The same holds true for us today.  Jesus is still mercifully and graciously reaching out to the whole world.  He asks us to follow and assist him with a servant's heart.

If you want to read the story of the mom and her two sons, please click onto 1st Century Soccer Mom under recent posts on this blog.

(c) Joyce Catherwood 2012 

"Don't See Me...."

One of my lovely granddaughters was quite shy when she was a toddler.  If someone paid attention to her, she would often say, "Don't see me!"  She was so precious and we all did our best to accommodate her.  But probably, in reality, that was only her "shyness" talking.  At the end of the day, most of us do want to be noticed, not in the celebrity sense of the word  but we want to be acknowledged as a worthwhile individual.  Everyone wants to know: "Do you see me?  Do you hear me?  And does what I have to say matter to you?" That's how I've heard Oprah explain it and I agree with her.  Each person has a story and every story is worth telling and every story is worth hearing.

But we all know how "some" people would much rather see and hear, and especially be seen with a perceived VIP.  If we're honest that probably includes all of us to one degree or another.

One day Jesus was walking through town with a VIP (synagogue president) on their way to raise up the leader's gravely ill daughter. They were mobbed by people on every side.  Now there happened to be a woman in the same town who was truly a "nobody."  She was shunned by society and deemed untouchable due to a disgusting disease which rendered her ceremonially unclean according to Jewish law.  On top of that, having a disease or disability in that day was often viewed as a curse, something the afflicted brought on themselves as a result of  sin. So all the more reason to view her as inferior and good-for-nothing.

But in spite of all the obstacles, the untouchable woman struggled determinedly, crawling through the pressing crowd surrounding Jesus to anonymously touch the hem of his garment. She knew better than to approach him directly.  Her body was healed instantly.  Now Jesus could have left it at that, right?  After all, he was on his way to a synagogue president's home.  She was just one of the crowd.  No, not Jesus.  That's not how he did things.  So he looked around intently and asked, "Who touched me?"  She fearfully and reluctantly came forward,  fell at Jesus'  feet and told him the whole truth.

Not only did Jesus want to see her and hear her, he wanted scores of people, including the VIP, to also see and hear her.  What she had to say mattered to him.  She told him her story and in that moment, Jesus raised her status from insignificant and worthless to a person of value.  He told her to take heart because she was free of her suffering, both physically and emotionally.

Share her transformation by reading her story.  Click onto The Neighborhood Misfit... under recent posts.