Monday, August 31, 2015

patience {as taught by animals =>}



Well my dear ones, is something, well,

of which I could use a lot more.


And I am learning it...very slowly

from some of our furry friends

...along with empathy.


We have a tiny adult male cat,

Jet Black,

who might weigh all of 4 pounds.

Each morning when I bring the food out,

and each evening when I bring it in,

he runs across the yard,

sits under my feet,

and just about trips me

until I pick him up

(along with all the food, water,

 and treats)

and carry him on my hip

over to Feeding station #4,

his preferred spot to

get his treats.


He’s our “pocket kitty,”

and it’s his job

to teach me empathy

toward those in life

that might need my help.




Now, as for patience...


Perhaps there is something

that you’ve been at for a long time

and you’re just about to give it up,

feeling like you are getting nowhere.


Well, let me tell you why it might

be good to hang in there

just a little bit longer.



Lexie (aka “Crunchie”)

is our little kitty with

a crooked, stubby tail;

nothing happened to it;

that’s just how she’s always been;

she’s a cute little spud, though.



Six years ago,

I stuffed her into a carrier

(got torn up in the process;

 I was new to animal rescue then;

 now I know better that to try

 and grab a feral cat,

 even a little one,

 without proper gear! #_#)

so we could take her in

and get her spayed.


She never forgot that day,

and for six years I haven’t

been able to pet her.


She will sit there, and cry

(you can hear her from

 30 yards away!) for treats;

she would let me put them

right under her nose;

but if I tried to per her,

I got cut.


Still, I hung in there;

I “talked” to her every day;

I put the treats down

right in front of her,

even after the times

when she had just cut me.


After six years of patience,

here is my reward:



Yes, I can pet the little thing,

but only from mid-back to tail,

never near her head;

she is very particular! *lol*

Still, at least now I can

finally pet her. =)


And as for Donny,

a tough old tomcat

that my wife had to trap

to him get neutered,

I couldn’t pet him for eight years;

if I tried, I would get hissing,

and usually a fast swipe

and a cut.


Still, I did the same thing

like I did with Lexie;

I talked to him softly everyday,

and gave him his treats

even if I was already bleeding.


After eight years of this,

one day, as he sat on top

of a feeding station,

I reached over

and scratched him on his head;

yet instead of taking a swipe at me,

he started to purr.


Now, every day, he sits in

that same spot,

waits for his treats,

and even after he has them,

he cries to get scratched

(lately he has even let me brush him).


This is how he is now:



However, it did take eight years of patience

to get to that point;

so don’t give up;

you may be right on the verge

of a breakthrough!

My theory is that God allows us pets

in order to help us

learn the virtues of patience,

compassion and empathy. =>


Have a great week!


grace, peace, and love to you,





pocket kitty

Thursday, August 20, 2015

A Tale of Three Miracles


Well my dear ones,



Back in the posting “COGPOW”

(Child Of God, Person Of Worth,

 ...that being you =>),

I mentioned that

if not for the power of God,

I’d not still be here,

and this page would be blank.


And further noted that,

long ago, my friend, Ashton asked me

if I’d ever seen a miracle,

like seen something of God in this world;

I shared with him a couple of things

that I’d been privileged to witness;

and noted if anyone had an interest,

I’d write them up.


Requests were made,

cobwebs were cleared from my brain,

and a file was found

containing my brush with the miraculous.


One miracle relates to a cat

and two of them relate to men;

in one a man lived;

in one a man died;

and I’m not sure but that

the one where the man died

wasn’t the bigger of those two.




To put it in context,

here is “A Tale of Three Miracles”

as written down back in DEC 2006

for two of my friends who are pastors,

in the hope that it would be

an encouragement to those under their care.



Well, that’s my tale

of personal miracles;

you’ll have to wait till

you get to heaven

to speak with my uncle,

but if you want to verify

the miracle of my friend, Ed,

just send him a message on Facebook

and ask him about it;


he is not shy at all. =D



I hope these stories will be

an encouragement for you, too,

that you might know that you

are never alone,

that you do matter,

and that there is a God

who loves you more

than you

(at least in this lifetime =>)

can ever possibly believe.



grace, peace, and love to you,


text of story "A Tale of Three Miracles"

A Tale of Three Miracles



Pastors Jim & Jen,



Your message about people

who have a dying family member

brought to mind the three miracles

I have witnessed in my life (so far).


Since you two deal with a lot of people

who are sick or dying,

I will write them down for you,

in the hope that some of these words

may be of some encouragement

to these others for whom you care.


Recently, one of our cats had a stroke,

front paws all stiff,

barely able to twitch the end of her tail;

the people at the animal hospital

said she had no chance,

and were making plans to put her down;

however, I spent the weekend praying for her.


Two days later, much to the shock

of all the doctors at the animal hospital,

they called to tell us that Charcoal

had totally recovered on her own,

and was completely fine. 


They were shocked,

but I totally was not surprised at all,

since we serve a mighty God,

and He can give or restore life as He pleases.


Our cat is still fine to this day,

which is why I call her the miracle kitty.


You might ask why would God bother

to lift up and save a cat?


A) Because He can


B) To give me a chance to witness to

the doctors there

about the One to Whom I prayed.


C) Because He is God;

and no matter what any doctor

says about anything,

the times of life are in the hand

of the Ever Living Ever Loving God,

and He can lift up whatever or whoever

suits His will, and in His own good time.


And this recent miracle

reminded me of the two miracles I have seen

with regard to people.


Years ago, my friend, Ed, was dying;

his body wasn't processing any food,

and he had already lost 38 pounds.

He was wasting away,

and the doctors had no clue what to do for him.

He was not a believer, and as a cancer survivor,

he had a tendency to rely on himself.


While Ed had no faith in God at this time,

his Mom did.

Ed was living in a small house

next to his parents home.


One day, his Mom told Ed

she was going to visit a new church the next day,

but he told me

he wasn't interested in checking it out.



However, the next morning,

as he heard his Mom starting her car,

and as he was lying in bed,

Ed heard a voice that told him,

"Get up, and go with your mother now."


He went to the Gateway Bible Church,

and listened to the pastor's sermon

on the book of James,

where it says that if anyone if sick

he should get the elders of the church

to anoint him with oil and lay hands on him.


After the service, Ed asked the pastor

if he would pray for him like that,

and the pastor told him,

yes, he would, and to come back next week.


The next week, Ed invited my wife and I,

and we were there

when Ed got up in front of the church,

and the elders anointed him with oil,

and asked that God would heal Ed

through doctors,

or through medicine,

or directly through the Holy Spirit,

and they asked for this healing

in the name of Jesus Christ.


After the service,

Ed told me he was totally healed,

and he was going to go home

and throw all his medicine away.

When I asked him

what made him think he was healed,

he told me that

while the others were praying over him

and said the name of Jesus,

he felt power running through him

like an electric current,

and he just knew that he was healed.


Power flowing through someone

like an electric current...

it's something I had seen before,

in another miraculous incident,

and it made me believe that Ed was right.


And he was right;

he gained all his weight back in no time

as he fed on the Word.

He read all the gospel accounts of Jesus,

and within two weeks,

he was admonishing people

who had been Christians for years.

He was on fire for the Lord,

and he still is;

he was ordained as a pastor last year,

and today he runs a Bible study

at a church in CT.


So in one miracle, our cat lived,

and in one miracle, my friend lived,

but in this last miracle, a man died;

but he died in power and glory

and I'm not sure if

this wasn't the most miraculous of the three.


Years ago, my uncle was diagnosed with cancer.

He had not been

a particularly religious person before this;

but he started attending

Black Rock Bible Church in CT.


While he prayed for healing, my uncle was told

that he was miraculously cured of his cancer.

A few days later, his doctor called to tell him

they had mixed up his test results

with someone else;

not only was my uncle not cured,

but he had only a couple of weeks to live.



His pastor stopped by to see him,

and asked,

"Are you angry with the doctors, Bob?"


My uncle said, no,

they're just human, and they make mistakes.


So his pastor asked if he was angry with God

and he said, no, he had lived a good life

and he knew where he was going.


They put my uncle in hospice,

and that was the last place I saw him.


When I went to visit him,

he asked me to read to him from the Bible

as his vision was starting to fail.


I read him the story of the doubting Thomas,

and he told me,

"Thank you for reading me that story, David,

but I have no doubts;

I know where I'm going."


Then he touched my arm,

and I felt the power flowing through him;

even though he was weak and sick,

when he touched me, it felt like

I'd grabbed onto a high voltage line.


So I asked him if he had anything

to say to me before he went,

and he said,

"Yes, two things:


"Trust in [Jesus] Christ.




 "God loves each one of us

   more than we

   can ever possibly believe."


 (Now, whenever I give away a Bible

   or a New Testament,

   I write both those things

   on the inside cover.)


While my uncle was in Hospice,

he refused all pain medication

since he said he wanted to

"witness for God on the way out."


A few days after I saw him, my uncle died,

but he died in power and glory,

witnessing for God even to his doctors.



At his funeral, the pastor said,

"Bob wrote his own eulogy

  on this sheet of notebook paper,

  so I'll just read it:


'If you came here to cry for me,

don't waste your time;

I'm already in heaven with Jesus.

So, if you're not yet hooked up

with Jesus Christ,

you'd better be crying for yourself...' "



Some lady in front of me turned to her husband

and said indignantly,

"Who does this guy think he is,

  witnessing to us from beyond the grave?"


But I was laughing to myself, and saying,

"Lay it on 'em, Uncle Bob!"



So, there you have it,

a tale of three miracles;

in one, our cat was restored;

in one, my friend was restored;

and in one, my uncle died...



but he died in power and glory

and in the hand of the Holy Spirit.

And he died in total faith,

just like the thief of the cross,

that he would be with Jesus

in heaven that same day.




I pray that these miracles

will build up the faith of any who need

a word of encouragement and hope.




Take care & God bless,


Wednesday, August 12, 2015

higher than your ways


Well my dear ones,



Back at the beginning of the month,

in “more than you think,”

I talked about developing

our God-given talents.


Some people were worried about

having the time to work on things,

as in, they are older,

and might it not be too late;

like can God restore the time

they could have used on their talents

yet spent on other things?


A good question; to answer it,

I’ll have to dial the clock back

about 2800 years,

back to the year 835 BC,

to the time of the prophet Joel:

“So I [God] will restore to you

the years that the swarming locust has eaten.”

(Joel 2:25)


There’s a lot of hope there,

like that it’s never too late

... I love that!


Moving on to a more difficult question,

I could ask why I only had Fuzzy

for such a short time?


Yes, the poor little possum passed on;

one night, she came into the yard

looking dehydrated, so I gave her

some water through a straw,

and she went back into the woods.


Yet the next night,

I found her expired,

not in the woods,

but back in our, her, backyard.


You could ask,

“Why did God allow me to save her,

 only to have her die

 a short time later?”


That’s a hard one,

and I have thought much on it

over the last few days.


I recalled the lesson I learned

from having Queenie;

I may have only had her

for a very short time,

but it was an important piece of time.






In the same way, Fuzzy the possum,

died with a name,

in a yard that was her home;

she was loved and cared for.


And I think that’s the important point;

God wants to stretch our hearts;

the more we learn to love,

the greater our capacity to love.


Since “God is love”

(not just has love =>),

and since God wants us

to be more like God,

then every little stretch of our hearts

is important.

Whenever we love a person,

or a pet,

even for a very short time,

we draw closer to the Divine;

and that’s no small thing.


grace, peace, and love to you,



“For My thoughts are not your thoughts,

Nor are your ways My ways,” says the Lord.

“For as the heavens are higher than the earth,

So are My ways higher than your ways,

And My thoughts than your thoughts.”

--- Isaiah 55:8-9 NKJV

Monday, August 03, 2015

happy tails




Well my dear ones,



Yesterday, just as I was on my way

to do a puppet show for the two-year-olds,

I came upon a possum in the road.


She was just a little thing,

not much more than a baby,

and while, thank God,

she hadn’t been run over,

I could tell that she had been

hit by a car;

she was in the middle of the road,

with blood on her mouth,

panting and distressed.


She was so scared and freaked out

that she didn’t even resist

when I picked her up like a kitten

(holding the back of her neck

 to prevent a fear-bite),

by the neck but also supporting

her little body.


I carried her to a shady spot

beneath some trees by the roadside,

and laid her down to recuperate.


I prayed, “God, if you want me

to help this small possum,

then let it be there when I get back.”


Newcomers may not know, yet

those who have read this blog for awhile

are aware that I have

a soft spot for possums;

I’ve had one ever since I was 14,

and watched a possum risk its life,

braving the traffic on a busy street,

trying to get its mate to move,

not realizing that she was dead.


In the Bible,

it says that husbands should

love their wives sacrificially,

as in, be willing to lay

their life down for hers

(no kidding; it really says that;

 in Ephesians 5:25 it says,

 “Husbands, love your wives,

  just as Christ also loved the church

  and gave Himself up for her”).


And here I saw this simple creature

putting many men to shame,

by doing that which they should do;

hence, I have held possums

in high regard ever since.


Anyway, after the puppet show,

I went and got a box,

then drove down the country lane,

and stopped by the shady spot;

there was the possum,

right where I had left her.

She was a little more feisty

as I loaded her into the box,

and I took that as a good sign.


At home, I put her in the Sanctuary,

next to one of the cat-feeding stations.

Then my wife pointed out that,

if she recovered, she

might have trouble getting through

the fence and into the woods.


So, I put her in the box,

on its side,

resting in the shade of the woods

just outside of our back gate.


A short time later,

I came back to see that she

had pulled a branch over herself,

likely to help hide her position.

I put down a little bowl of food

and a dish of water,

then left to let her eat.


A while later,

when it looked like it might rain,

I went to check on her.

She’d drunk half the water,

and eaten half the food;

she was hunched over the food bowl,

like a dragon over its hoard of gold,

and it looked like she was saying,

“Mine, mine, mine!”


Poor little thing.

I re-cut the box and made it into

a shelter over her,

in case it rained,

as I figured that,

even if she survived,

she would be too tired

to try and find shelter on her own.


I stroked her fur

and spoke softly to her

(calling her Fuzzy,

 for lack of a better name =>).

I prayed for her,

for a happy ending to her accident,

then let her be to rest.


A couple of hours later

(no rain, thank God),

I went back to check on her,

...fearing the worst

...yet hoping for the best.


The box was empty. =D


I could see where she had

pushed her way out the back

and headed out into the woods

behind the Sanctuary,

where there are many cats,

as well as deer, foxes,

and raccoons,

plus, of course,

other possums for her to play with.


“Yay, Fuzzy!

 Happy tails, little spud,

 happy tails to you!”


I know we all want our lives to matter,

we wish to accomplish great things.

Yet I know God delights in a thankful heart,

and I think we sometimes need

to give thanks for the small things

we are allowed to accomplish.



grace, peace, and love to you,