Jumbo's Adventure

 

After a rough day at work, talking with dental insurance companies, having claims denied, dealing with disgruntled patients, I drove home in a sour mood. I felt sorry for myself and shut off the radio. No music could cheer me.

A few blocks from home, I saw a picture tacked to a wooden pole that advertised a lost cat. The sweetest black and white cat stared at me from the photo. Poor little guy. His name said ‘Jumbo.’ It appeared the family was frantic and the closer I got to my house, more and more posters were stuck to poles in the neighborhood.

Well, Lord, I thought, that family has it worse than me. I knew what losing a beloved pet was like. As a little girl our dog Fluffy ran away. Please bless that kitty to find his way home. Bless the family to locate him.

My husband often jokes that I pray for everybody and everything. It was no surprise when I told him about the lost cat and how I’d prayed.

A postcard even came in the mail. Jumbo’s adorable picture looked out at me. There was a typed note stating that Jumbo was possibly in our area and to please look out for him.

Every day on my way to and from work, I found myself saying a prayer for Jumbo and his family. But weeks went by and turned into months. I never heard one way or the other about the outcome. It was a little disappointing to me, but then something happened.

My next door neighbor and I spoke the other day. She said that the lost cat had been coming around her house in the evenings. She had been feeding him, but unable to catch him. Another neighbor’s security camera had been going off the same time every morning as Jumbo stole a quick meal from the wall on his driveway. It was this man who finally caught the kitty and returned him to his frantic owner.

 I wanted to let Jumbo’s owner know how much I had been praying for him. It had touched me in a very special way that he’d been found, and I wanted to hear a little more about him.

She told me that Jumbo had walked several miles in our very busy town, crossed major highways and managed to be spotted in many different neighborhoods. Jumbo’s owner lived about forty minutes away and he had escaped accidentally while going to a veterinary office in my town.

She had frantically searched for him almost every single night after people began calling her to say they’d seen him in their yard. When he ended up on my block, his owner got to know many of the people and their precious pets.

I spoke with her about Jumbo’s big adventure and about how a huge town came together in kindness to help her to get him back.  Jumbo’s angel had been watching over him the whole time.

 (Photo credit: Internet)

 

I Got An Arcade Game Made After Me!

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He was a shy, quiet kid. He was never sure what he might be good at. He had anxiety. But then.... he found something he enjoyed and made a living at it!

This is my son's journey and this arcade machine was made with and for him. It has sayings and his voice, it has graphics of some of the fun things Matt is all about in his YouTube videos!

This is one extremely proud and grateful mother. Son, I am beyond happy for you. May you always do what you love and make it a blessing in other's lives.

The Special Friendship

 

It has taken me several years to get this story just right. I hope you enjoy it.

The Special Friendship

The early August sun promised a beautiful day as I grabbed my laptop and headed outdoors to my porch to do a little writing. It had been a good summer. A major prayer had been answered for my father. For several years, I’d prayed a specific prayer for him. My parent’s old home was beginning to show signs of wear. The windows were rotting on the outside. Shingles needed replaced on Dad’s garage. A small back door roof had fallen down. Painting jobs were needed everywhere, inside and out. But the worst of it was my parent’s shower. The walls were beginning to cave in. It was unsightly, but I worried mostly about how unsafe it was for them. With Dad’s heart condition and some financial burdens, we couldn’t find help. I wanted to do something for Mom and Dad, but I didn’t have the finances either. I began praying deep, heartfelt prayers that somehow we would find help; something that would lift my father’s spirits and show him that God truly cared.

Earlier in the summer, my father came home from church with the weekly bulletin. A small article we could have easily missed was printed off to the side. It read: Catholic Heart Workcamp. Dad asked, “Do you think this is something for heart patients? Maybe some type of help for them?”

Normally I would have dismissed this as unimportant, or something that was meant for other people but not my family. However, a nagging feeling pushed me to contact them. Do this for your Dad, someone seemed to say quite persistently.

Oddly enough, the nicest people reached back out to me. They were a group of young people and mentors who raised their own money all year ‘round. They didn’t vacation in the summer, but spent their time doing free work for those with household needs.

God, is this truly possible? Would Dad qualify for this?

The answer was yes, and the kindest group of kids came for a week and repaired, worked, laughed and prayed together at my parent’s house. Everything was done to perfection. They even were able to repair the shower. When they were done, I hugged each one of them and began crying. They had been an answer to prayer; a true miracle.

That was why on the early August day, I found myself daydreaming as I wrote. A loud “Chirup” stirred me from my reverie. The most glorious male cardinal sat only several feet from me on the railing of my porch. He looked inquisitively at me, turning his head a little as he chirped loudly once again. I could see the beautiful black mask on his face and the deep red of his perfect feathers.

“Are you hungry?” I asked. “I’ll get you something,” and went into the house for seeds.

On a small, flat feeding dish I placed seeds as the cardinal sat nearby. How odd, I thought. As if he’s waiting for me. He’d flown to a low branch in the crab apple tree of my front yard. One more “chirp” as if thanking me, and I moved away so he could eat in peace.

From that moment on, something wonderful happened. The cardinal came daily to the porch, making sure he was heard. He sang sweetly in the branches of a Rhododendron bush outside my front window. When I pulled into my driveway after work each day the male cardinal would land nearby. He seemed to come closer and closer. I spoke to him and he listened with his tilted little head and piercing dark tiny eyes. He sometimes sang for me on the spot as I talked.

I found it odd that we were developing such a unique relationship, this bird and I. Many people began to comment that he was an angel, perhaps. He warmed my heart with his presence and brought me joy with his song.

My father landed in the hospital later that same month. Though it had always been congestive heart failure, this time his gallbladder would be the culprit. Well, at least it’s something easy, I thought. But it wasn’t. Dad developed sepsis. We lost him several weeks later.

With my heart breaking, the male cardinal still came daily. Throughout Dad’s time in the hospital and even on the day of the funeral, he was there singing his sweet song for me, trusting me, and coming ever closer. When tears and grief enveloped me, I felt comfort and hope with this small miracle of nature.

He remained through the winter months, and one time I saw him feeding seeds to his lady bird. What a special caregiver, I thought. Just like Dad had been for Mom.

It was then that I realized God had given me a gift in the form of this amazing bird. Through all my sadness, I’d held onto a new friendship: The kind that could only have come from above.

The cardinal came often, throughout the next year. I even tried feeding him from my hand. He seemed ever so close to wanting to breach this gap between human and bird, yet he hesitated always at the last.

I lost my mother nine months after Dad once again in the summertime. One year since our family’s blessing with Catholic Heart Workcamp, and one year since my unique bird friendship.

One day, later in the summer while sitting outdoors with my writing once again, I heard the familiar “Chirp!” I looked up to see the male cardinal and four fuzzy brown babies sitting next to him on the stoop of my porch.

“Thank you, oh thank you,” I said to him. “I love your babies. Thank you for sharing them with me.”

I never saw him again after that. It seemed the cardinal had done God’s work. He’d gotten me through the death of my parents. He’d shared song, bonding, friendship, and his family with me. Now my yard is filled with other cardinals. I’d like to think they are all parts of my special friend’s family.

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