Find Joy. Seek Truth. Be Kind.

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Hope is arrogance on display

We all want to know "why?"  Sometimes it's "why me?" Sometimes the question is "how?", or "why now?"

And, more often than we like, the answer is "I don't know", or "no reason", or "it's just the way it is".

And that's hard.  It's really hard.  How can we accept that there's not necessarily rhyme or reason to the crazy shit that happens?  How do we live with the suffering and death and heart rendering sorrow that in time come to afflict us all?

I think that's why humans invented religion.  I had a friend who liked to tell me that we all had a hole in us, a God Hole.  That we all had a need to answer those questions, and that need was our God Hole begging to be filled.  I agree.  As humans we can see beyond the now.  We remember  our pasts and share our memories with people who aren't even born yet.  We can envision the future.  We have the arrogance to believe we can change the future.  We have the ability to imagine that things are not yet, and then make them happen.  We know that things can be different than how they are. That's our God Hole, our imagination begging to understand and control.  My friend was a Pentecostal, and I'm pretty sure she didn't mean for me to interpret her the way I did.  And in my vast imagination, I can see us both being right.

Tonight my heart is heavy.  I just learned from our house sitter that one of our foster kittens is very sick, probably dying.  What happened?  I don't know.   We are away in Steamboat, taking advantage of the Labor Day weekend and the fact that I'm only 1 week into radiation and not as sick as I'm going to get.  These 4 foster kittens are only 4 weeks old.  They are the cutest sweetest little cuddles of fur we've had in a while.  I'm heart broken that one is so ill, and keep coming back to all the the things I might have done wrong.  Did I miss some symptom?  We hadn't had them long at all.  The rescue knew that we were leaving and that the house sitter would be caring for them, but perhaps I should have refused to have them while we were gone.  I know our house sitter is excellent with animals, but she shouldn't have to take on this responsibility.  She's tenderhearted and has her own sorrows.  I'm so sorry to have added any burdens to her already full load.

It's not really just about the little kitten is it?  That innocent little fur ball represents every child that's ever been hurt, every person that has suffered, and all the hideous ugly horrors that the living must daily face.  I know that.  I know it's about my cancer, the abuse I suffered as a child, the sorrow I hold in my heart for my own children watching me be ill.  I know it's about the suffering and illness my mother has suffered, and my brother in law, and my aunts.  I know it's personal, for each of us.  We all have our wounds, scars, and sorrows.  It's just that kind of a world.

How arrogant am I?  That I think I can affect any of this?  I am human.  My God Hole sees other possibilities than pain, sorrow and suffering.  My God Hole knows, not only that this will not last, but that better things are possible.  So I keep going.  I look for fun and joy.  I take my hugs when they come.  I drink a glass of wine, and enjoy the taste fresh fruit.  I play with my children.  I rescue little fluff balls. 

I'm that arrogant.

Update 9/2/12:

The kitten died.  Our house sitter rushed it to the rescue late last night, where the vet met her, but there was nothing that could be done.    The vet gave the house sitter some medicine for the other kitties, because one of them had a fever and was listless. (She also gave the feverish one extra sub-q fluids.)  This morning the house sitter texted that the 3 remaining kittens were doing well.  Sometimes there's nothing you can do, but sometimes there is. 

I'm grateful to have such an awesome house/pet sitter, that she would care so much and get herself and 4 kittens to the vet late at night.  I'm impressed with Dr. Gloria from the Fort Collins Cat Rescue, that she would give up a Sat. night to try to save the life of 8 oz. of fluff.  Having dealt with her before, I'm not surprised, just continuously in awe of her dedication and abilities.  That's one arrogant, hopeful, woman.

1 comment:

Shawn Walter said...

Big hugs, April, big, big hugs.