Friday, November 26, 2010

Trust. Fear. Worship.

It’s a week now since I last saw Ruby, my little fluffy tortoiseshell cat. Hard to keep the balance between grief and hope, trust and imagination. I’ve done all that I know to do—asked around, put up posters, activated her microchip, and called and called, alone and with company…

And I’ve prayed, continually. Waking up in the night to pray often leads into long prayer for all the lost and wandering, for the hurt and bewildered of every race and species, for the seemingly endless pain of this broken world. Christ’s mercy is our only refuge, his making all things new the only light on our horizon (Romans 8:18-27).

Ruby’s sister Ftifa and uncle Griffin haven’t been looking for her, or obviously grieving, though they have both been spending rather more time indoors than they had, and both sleep on my bed most of the night.

A friend’s daughter posted a beautiful song by Kristene Mueller on Facebook this morning, and it brought together so much of God’s way with us in times like this. We cannot but worship, despite our fear. Listen, carefully, to the whole song:


  1. We're sending Ruby lots of 'go home now, you silly girl' vibes.

  2. I am so sad to hear that Ruby's gone awandering. I pray she'll think better of it soon and return home. I know how distraught I would be without one of my kittehs. Count on my prayers for you all.

  3. Thank you, both. Barbara, I might have known poor Ruby's plight would get to you. I just pray the poor scrap has been taken in and is being looked after. She has a silly habit of climbing into vehicles, so she could have been whisked off to anywhere, really.

  4. Thanks for your prayers, everyone. It looks as if Ruby was killed on the main street just down the hill from here, very early on the Saturday morning after the night I last saw her. A cat matching (as far as I can tell) her description was picked up dead, having been run over outside the barber's shop... The kind man who phoned me had only just heard from an acquaintance of his. Unfortunately this acquaintance had simply disposed of the poor little body, never thinking to get the vet to scan for a chip. At least the poor scrap didn't suffer, by all acounts.