I was planning to write about my summer so far – Creation festival, workcamp, and all the stuff in between. But really, what I am coming back to is what is really going on in my heart and my spirit.

I have been struggling with a bunch of things as of late – my job situation (including a potential/pending layoff), my call to ministry, where I should be, what I should be doing, and so many other things. My attitude has been bad, frankly, and my anxiety level has been through the roof. Two of my dearest friends moving two hours away didn’t help this, either. It seemed as though everything was crashing down around me. But in the midst of it, there was a little stirring in my soul, a need for something to take me back to where I once was and give me the sense of peace and connectedness I had when I first came to faith.

And so, when I was at Creation I prayed for the Lord to give me a word. I know some of you who are reading this won’t understand what I mean by that or may think that I’m nuts. But I believe God still talks to people – not necessarily the burning bush kind of thing or even an audible voice – but through people, circumstances and events. And Creation was an excellent place for me to open myself up and listen and to hear what he wanted me to hear. I separated myself from everything else going on and just sat and soaked up the music and the teaching. I can’t tell you how thankful I am for that time…now I just have to find out how to translate what I learned and heard, what spoke to my heart, to my spirit, into my everyday life…

Ramona was my very first cat. I grew up with dogs and longed for a pet when I moved out on my own. When I was at a very low point in my life, my dear roommates and friens got me a lop-eared bunny…but lop-eared bunnies aren’t long for apartment life.

When I was living by myself a few years later and still longing for a pet, I finally decided that allergies be darned, I was getting a kitten. (Yes, I am allergic to cats! I have to take medicine but it is well worth it.) A coworker knew of someone who had just had a litter. I excitedly ran out and got all the necesary supplies – cute dishes, a carrier, litter box, food, everything. We drove over to the house and I had two females kittens to choose from. Ramona was so tiny and cute and I loved her unique black & white markings. I decided to take her and we drove off. She mewed and sounded so sad all the way home that she made me cry. I felt so bad for taking her from her sister and her mom!

My friend Liz came over to meet her that night and we laid on my living room rug, checking her out and trying to decide on a suitable name. We tossed around many option before moving into characters from our favorite children’s books…which is how we came upon Ramona Quimby…and a kitty was named.

Ramona was my sweet girl but would occassionally nip at me when bored. I talked to the vet about it and she recommended that I get her a playmate. Surprisingly (not!), they had a litter of kittens there that needed homes. Some had found homes early on but one little quiet girl with humongous ears and white fur with black markings stole my heart. I had decided to name her Olive but after a few days at home, I realized that she really was a Nervous Nellie – every little thing scared her and sent her scurrying for shelter. (I remember the first night I let her have free reign in the house and could not find her in the morning. I was frantic, searching everywhere (even under the fridge) and crying because she was my responsibility and I had let her down. Luckily, I had put a collar with a bell on her and after about an hour of searching, I heard a little ring. She was under my dresser (which I didn’t know was possible – the front of the dresser came all the way to the floor! But the back didn’t.)

As Nellie got more accustomed to our home, she decided that Ramona was her mother. Until very recently, she wanted very little to do with me! But unfortunately, Ramona did not love her the same. She thought she was a threat for my attention and rather a bug. This has improved over the years (I have caught them snuggling like the picture above!) but Ramona still seems to wish she were an only cat. (And oh my, did her world turn upside down when Norman came to live with us! But that is another post.)

About two years ago, Ramona started to act very lethargic. She was eating and drinking a great deal so I took her to the vet. After much testing, she was diagnosed with diabetes. She gets 5 units of insulin two times a day, which is apparently a lot for a kitty. Right now, we are working to regulate her sugar a little better through her diet and such and she is really not handling it well. With my job and other travel, this poses a difficult situation – primarly because she will only let me give her her insulin. She used to allow our petsitter, until halfway through workcamp last summer when for some reason she lost it and would no longer allow it, hissing, growling, hiding, the works. So now Norman & Nellie get to stay home with the petsitter while Miss Ramona has to stress out in a cage at the vet. This upsets me so deeply, I cannot tell you. It’s bad enough to have to leave her there but I also know that the stress does not help her diabetes. I pray each time that she will make it through. And right now, I am hoping that the work we are doing with the vet’s help could reverse the diabetes (totally possible in cats for some reason – diet can be a big factor) and alleviate this situation all together, so she can get back to being the sweet & loving kitty I’ve known and loved for 12 years.

When I wss in sixth grade, Stacy Queen was my best friend. We spent much time together, hanging out, laughing, listening to heavy metal music. She was over at my house the day my mom came in, opened the freezer door and stated, “I am going to put my head in the freezer and die.” Which in retrospect probably should have been disturbing but to two preteen girls was pretty darn hysterical.

It was Stacy’s dad who took us to our first concert – Def Leppard at the Allentown Fairgrounds. I remember saying something about the funny smell around us and her dad telling us to inhale deeply. (Again, probably disturbing in retrospect but kind of funny.)

I remember hanging out at her house and playing with the Wacky Wall Walker octopi we had gotten (mine named Ozzifer after my dear Ozzy Osbourne). I remember laughing at lunch. I remember that she & her brother always cried in school pictures, for some reason.

What I don’t remember is what happened to us. I know junior high changed us, changed our circle of friends. I don’t clearly remember seeing much of her after that and not much or maybe at all in high school. I recall hearing she was being homeschooled toward the end but I don’t know that for sure. I wonder where she is now, what she is up to. Is she married? Does she have kids? Did she move away or stay in our hometown? The other weekend, I drove up to my parents and drove through her town. I wanted to drive over to her house but decided that that was weird…and so I was left to wonder.

Prayer means many different things to different people. To me, prayer is an ongoing conversation with my Lord & Savior. However, I find that in times of extreme stress, like mine as of late, my prayer life becomes as discombobulated as the rest of my life (and me.) I sometimes find myself only able to say, “Lord, please help me” or even simply, “Lord.” I know that this is prayer in itself; He knows what I am going through and what the burdens of my heart are, after all.

This morning, I was driving to work. I had the radio off and wanted to pray for some specific and troubling issues. But I would start and then become distracted by other things – stupid drivers, to do lists, hunger. Much of my prayer was, “I’m sorry, God. I am so easily distracted” and trying to begin again. It is quite frustrating. I guess I mistakenly try to compare myself to others who have these deep and meaningful prayer lives – and then I feel like a failure. A failure at prayer? It really can’t be possible, can it? I don’t truly believe it can. I think merely the desire, the effort, put forth in whatever manner is what God desires…

…that this alphabet game would be easier. But it’s not! I am trying to come up with something clever but am stuck…

I love Nascar.

I love it even more now that my favorite driver won Sunday after a drought of 76 races! But that is another post.

I know what all the naysayers say about Nascar – it’s not really a sport, anyone can drive round and round, only beer-swilling rednecks watch it, blah, blah, blah.

Blah.

It’s so frustrating to me when people dismiss something or mock it, simply because they are ignorant about it. I don’t care if you don’t like it, can’t get into it, have no interest in it – but don’t put me down because I enjoy it. I don’t enjoy baseball (or basketball or hockey, for that matter) but I don’t put someone down for liking it. Different people like different things, and that is ok. It’s how God made us!

And here’s a question to reflect on, next time the subject of Nascar comes up. Can you drive a car at about 200 miles an hour, on a 33 degree angle (called a bank), in a firesuit, when the temperature outside is over 90 and the track temperature is over 125 degrees with 40 other drivers trying to cut you off and push you out of the way, for more than 4 hours straight?

Didn’t think so!

I was joking with friends the other night that Nascar is in my blood, but it’s not really a joke. My grandmother and her boyfriend used to go to races all over the place. I imagine her interest might have been partly due to his but it was interest just the same. My dad always watched, too (though football took first place if a choice had to be made.)

A few years ago, I attended my first race and my love of the sport grew, as did my respect for the drivers and their teams. It is amazing how knowledgeable they need to be, are required to be, to keep the driver safe and on the track. The sport has made great strides in the past few years to make the drivers safer – changing the car, installing safer barrier walls, increasing safety equipment in the cars and so on. Serious accidents can still happen but safeguards are in place to make them happen less and less. (If you want to see what I mean, check this out…it’s absolutely insane.)

So what is my point? I guess simply that you don’t have to enjoy a sport to respect it, its participants and most of all, its fans.

Stay tuned for O…

Or memories, as the case may be.

One of my favorite hobbies is scrapbooking. I haven’t done it since April for various reasons (including the scrapbooking store we frequent closing down) but it is somehow important for me to document my life. I started with my graduation from college and have only made it to 2002; there is much more to be done. I especially enjoy documents my vacations and other trips/adventures. It is great to be able to look back on such things and remember.

And remembering is another issue. I truly fear losing my memory when I grow older. I am notorious for remembering completely ridiculous and unimportant things but completely blocking other things from my mind. It drives my friend Mike absolutely bats because he remembers EVERYTHING. But it is really quite an odd phenomenon. When I was in Orlando in January, I was trying to decide where to go when I had a free afternoon. We had vacationed in Orlando when I was 12, visiting Disney, Epcot, Sea World, Cape Canaveral, Tampa/St. Pete and so on. I finally decided on Sea World because I remembered nothing from our trip other than I was in a bad mood and was irritated that my dad wanted to take a picture of me, my mom and the guy dressed up like Shamu.

Well, apparently, we toured the whole place – including the behind the scenes tour, complete with Shamu jumping up and landing RIGHT NEXT TO ME. And I remember not a thing.

Not one thing.

What do you think it means?