The Care and Feeding of Hope

Sitting in a restaurant a couple of weeks ago, my husband jokingly shared a text from a friend asking us if we wanted a kitten. It was in pretty rough shape and needed some love. How could I refuse? I mean in our house what's one more animal? We got her the next day, and I came home to my husband cleaning her up, because her eyes were crusted closed and she was very timid, skinny and not walking very well. He was pretty concerned that she may not make it and my two girls were in there fussing and cooing over her and they were pretty adamant about her name, Hope.

So here we were nursing blind Hope. Kitten milk from a dropper, wiping her little eyes with a warm cloth to keep them clear, praying that our love would be enough to get her to the next day. Today, she's a little fat ball of fur capering around the living room floor, bright eyes and claws ready to pounce. We needed the project that was taking care of this sweet little kitten.

She was a lot like how my life felt: lost, orphaned, blind, in need of some tender loving care. There's no denying that the days have been dark, storm-ridden, cloudy at best. But in the midst, we've had each other and we've leaned back in the arms of our Father, and we've reminisced around the warming flames of our sweet memories. Days are still nip and tuck with fluctuating tears and laughter. Bittersweet. I am amazed though at the steadying hand of a faithful God who knows us better than we know ourselves.


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