Our theme for the month of June is “spirits.”
A few weeks ago, I was watching a few stray kittens sleep on my porch from my dining room window, their little furry bodies rising and falling with their breath. Just a few days before then, I was watching my little brother sleep on the pullout couch of my Airbnb in Florence, Italy.
This May, my world was turned upside down by a family emergency concerning my little brother, which was why my sister and I traveled to Italy—to be with him. It was an emergency that I had worried about happening for a long time, and although the emergency has been resolved to some extent, I’ve been left reeling. One of my worst fears almost happened and now I am living in the aftermath—full of gratitude, but also full of dread of the unknown.
When I first noticed the porch kittens, one was sitting in an empty flower pot on the ledge of our porch. The other was on the move, exploring along the outside of the house. When it started to rain, he came scampering back under the protection of the roof, and together the other kitten hopped out of the flower pot and they wound up on our unused outdoor couch at the far end of the porch.
These small gray kittens sleeping on my porch were a comfort, but also a pang. As soon as I saw the kittens on my porch, I snapped a picture and texted it to my brother—he loves kittens and has a gray cat of his own.
While in Florence, all three of us siblings visited a cat cafe. My sister isn’t a big pet person, but she’d prefer cats over dogs any day. We spent the afternoon trying to tempt cats into our vicinity, pulling a bar stool with a sleeping mancoone cat over to our table. We laughed and hollered when a particularly determined cat jumped onto our table and drank out of my sister’s water cup.
I’ve seen a lot of cats in the last few weeks. In Italy, my brother introduced me to his “apartment” cat, who would wander in and out of his open kitchen windows. She was a beautiful dark brown long haired cat who he’d had nicknamed Cheeto. She let me pick her up and hold her tight. On the phone with my husband, Micah, during my time in Florence, he sent me a picture of a stray cat in our backyard. Just last night, Micah and I dropped some soup off at our sick friend’s apartment. He happens to have a cat who I got to spend some time petting. It is such a comfort to have a sweet kitten to snuggle with in trying times.
I love cats. They are my favorite animal and there isn’t much that cuddling with a cat can’t help with. In the last few weeks, these gray kittens have visited our porch a number of times. The first day we saw the kittens, an identical third gray kitten hopped up onto the couch. He was damp and shivering from the rain, but nestled down to be nice and cozy with his brothers. We’ve met both their mom and their dad, given them some kitten food in a Tupperware, and watched them play-wrestle in our backyard.
Someone recently warned me against living in “anticipatory grief.” They were right. In the tumultuous wake of this family emergency, God has sent me these kittens: something to pour my love into, something to comfort me, and something to keep me in the present. I know over the last month the Holy Spirit has been working overtime to intercede for my broken and bumbling prayers for my family. To also have the physical comfort of these kittens has filled my heart to the brim.
Like clockwork, every evening the mama cat sends her kittens over to our porch to eat dinner. Rather than watching Mad Men, Micah and I peer out our windows to watch their little paws and tails while they eat, listen to the crunching of their little teeth. It has been a blessing to know that we need to get home to refill their food, to get home to watch them eat, to have some hope. Per the book of Romans, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.”
Carlisle Patete (‘22) came to Calvin University from the mountains of North Carolina and graduated with a double major in film & media and creative writing. After brief stints in Los Angeles and Chicago, she now resides in Chattanooga, Tennessee, where she enjoys sweet tea on her front porch and identifying every tree and bird she runs into on any hiking trail.
“anticipatory grief” is so real. waiting for the shoe to drop while also clinging onto the hope found in God is a tension that is so challenging to sit in. much prayers for you and yours!