For almost ten years, every morning, well almost every morning, I have sat down with a cup of coffee in a big cozy red leather chair in my living room with my prayer companion, Susie, and begun my day. Our chapel–though small–serves us well. Delia lays at my feet and the three of us praise and sing the dawning of day in our “poor man’s monastery”. My cats chant Lauds as gracefully as any monks.
We’ve sat; we’ve prayed; we’ve embraced the stillness that hovers at the beginning of day. I’ve written in my cat journal–all the observations that these two little rescue cats have taught me since they entered into our lives.
Two little rescue cats without pedigree or mother’s warm tit found refuge in our Brooklyn apartment. How compassionate we felt until I discovered just how generous is God’s love. Until I discovered the wonder of it all–that the refuge had been provided me. I discovered that two little cats guided me toward the loving God who sheltered us all.
And that cat journal that I’ve been writing. Well, I’m still writing it. And I’m still beginning each day with Susie next to me and Delila laying across the rug. After all this time, I thought, perhaps, I should share their wisdom with others and let the two of them blog. What’s set forth is their wisdom and my fingers. And the results, unknown. Susie and Delia have already taught me–the results–completely in God’s hands.
