"No. Everything Isn't Alright."

I became a Christian in 1978 just at the point where Televangelists were really getting started. In fact, I became a Christian by watching a TV Show called, "100 Huntley Street". It was in the format of a Christian talk show. They would have guests and singers and they would all talk about Jesus and how wonderful their life had become since they "found" Jesus.
Actually during the 1980's almost every Christian who was spreading their faith (including me) was telling people that their problems would be solved if they gave their life to Jesus. There was just one hitch about that. Your problems are not all solved when you decided to follow Jesus. In fact, you actually get MORE problems by following Jesus.

It took me a lot of years to reconcile that. I figured that if I had problems and I wasn't happy all the time, then obviously I was a bad Christian. Or at the very least, doing something wrong. I mean, it couldn't be that God wasn't enough, so the fault had to be mine. Right?

In the early 1980's I was attending a small church. In fact, it was so small I was always introduced as , "This is Laura-Lee. She's our youth group."
Yup. I was the only teenager. The entire youth group.

At this little church, we would have two services every Sunday. One in the morning and a completely different one on Sunday night. At the night time service there were fewer people and it was much more laid back and casual, but, OH did I learn things in that service.

We did a bunch of singing and clapping and worshipping. We had a great sermon (that wasn't too long) and we were all happy little Christians in our happy little church.
Then the Pastor decided to allow anyone who wanted to give a "Praise Testimony" to speak up.
 
A "Praise Testimony" is basically where you stand up and tell about something wonderful God has done for you. You start by telling some problem you have and then you tell how Jesus solved that problem for you. And how happy you are now that Jesus has helped you.
 
In that service a person would stand and say something nice about Jesus and then sit down again. Then we'd wait and a couple minutes later someone else would think of something else to say. And so it went on for about 30 minutes. Since we were a small church and not many people were there, it seemed it wouldn't go on much longer.
Just as our Pastor was going to take a breath and wind things up, one young man suddenly stood up.
We all looked at him with anticipation. I knew him well. He was a young, married man with a brand new baby. He was a kind and gentle person and his faith in Jesus was deep and sincere. So I figured he'd have a good "Praise Testimony". But he just continued to stand there, while we continued to stare at him. Suddenly things started getting uncomfortable because he wasn't saying anything. Nothing. He just kept standing there.
Everyone in the congregation started looking at each other and then we were looking at the Pastor, and still that guy just stood there.

Then, in that absolute and tense silence, he blurted out in his gentle voice,

" I don't have a 'praise testimony'. I'm miserable. Everything is far from okay and I just can't pretend anymore that everything is alright when everything isn't alright."
 
Then he sat down and wiped some tears from his eyes.

Now, before he said anything, when we were just waiting, you could have heard a pin drop. But this was even more quiet than that.
 
To say the least, we were a bit stunned and since none of us knew what to do or say, we turned our attention back to the Pastor. I remember thinking about our Pastor, "I bet he wished he had stayed home tonight."
But our Pastor quietly said, "Okay. Let's talk about that."

The remainder of that service was very different. With that one statement a flood of confessions and tears came. We all started talking about the bad things happening in our lives and the deep loneliness of having to face so much trouble, but act like everything is wonderful. Somehow we had all gotten the same idea: if we weren't excited and happy ALL THE TIME, then we were doing something wrong.

I feel sorry for the people who weren't at that evening service. We were there deep into the night, even though we all had to be at work and school the next day. We opened our hearts to each other and, as for me, I began to approach the Lord in a new way.

When I went to the Bible for guidance, I found I was reading it with new eyes. And probably with a new heart. Because you can never really get any help until you admit and face the problem. And that's the gift that young man gave us. He may have felt like a fool or a "bad" Christian for speaking that way, but his moment of truth  changed a lot of us that night. On individual levels and as a church. A Christian church is a family. And families don't just share the joys, they share the sorrows too. Or they aren't a family. They're just a club.

I discovered in the Bible so many times that Jesus was tired and hurt and discouraged and betrayed and lonely and without a home.

" 'Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.' "  Matthew 8:20

 He knew most of all that to follow his Father meant he would face massive heartache. Not to mention being imprisoned, beaten, whipped and killed.

Then there is the example of the apostle Paul, who spent most of his life in prison for being a Christian. Not to mention flogged, stoned and beaten several times. 
And Stephen who was killed by having a mob stone him to death. And John who ended his life spending years isolated on the barren Island Prison of Patmos.

I'll let the Bible continue this:

" And what more shall I say? ... Some faced jeers and flogging, while still others were chained and put in prison. They were stoned, they were sawed in two; they were put to death by the sword. They went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted and mistreated - the world was not worthy of them. They wandered in deserts and mountains, and in caves and in holes in the ground. "
    HEBREWS 11:32-38

And what about all the people who lived their lives after the Bible was finished being written. Those who were fed to lions in the Coliseum. Some skinned alive. Some burned alive. Some raped. Some murdered.

And do not kid yourself, all those things that the early Christians faced is still going on today. People who live in literal garbage dumps. People who become Christians and have their entire family disown them forever. They lose their jobs, their homes, their freedom and sometimes their lives. NOT because they were doing something wrong, but because they were doing something very right.
All because they were (and are) following Jesus.

Following Jesus is not easy. Jesus said:

" All men will hate you because of me, "  - Matthew 10:22

So then why do it? Why do I do it?

Because knowing Jesus is that great. That wonderful. So wonderful that whatever you have to give up is more than worth the greatness of having an intimate and growing relationship with Jesus. And through Jesus to my Heavenly Father. He always comes when I'm in trouble and the more trouble I'm in the more he shows himself to me. 

You see, this isn't a philosophy Christians are pushing, it is a person we are introducing. He knows all the pain you're going through, all the troubles and terrors you face. All the sins you've committed. And He still loves you. He created you. He died for you. He waits for you.  He wants your heart to be his home. Your life to be something wonderful. An adventure, not an endurance test. And once he makes his home in you, he will never leave or abandon you.
Problems will come and bombard you through your entire life whether you are a Christian or not. But there is a day coming when Jesus will make "all things new." For now, he wants to make you new.
And for me ... he still lives inside me. His voice grows louder and clearer every day, his deliverance grows more amazing and his comfort more encompassing with each thing I suffer through. And the greater my sins, the greater his forgiveness. His mercies are new to me every morning because of his great faithfulness. And I never have to pretend or play a part again. I am what I appear. I hurt. I'm wrong. I'm sinful. I'm worried. I'm mixed up. I'm weak. I cry. I cry some more. But Jesus remains. My constant companion. Saviour. Creator. Provider. Promise keeper. Lover of my soul. My Hope. And my Grave Robber. Because some day in my flesh I will see God. Following Jesus is absolutely worth it. 
 
I can blab on for ever and a day, but it comes down to one thing:  I love him. I know it's because he first loved me, but whatever comes we will face together.
And there are millions of people around the world, right now, who feel the same. 
 
It's still the greatest story ever told. Because it's a true one ... and it's available to everyone.
 
What will you do with what you now know? 
 The only thing you are really in control of is your choices. So make them good ones.

Love Laura-Lee (who was here for just a moment, but will be with Jesus forever) 

Kijiji Ad Tells PUPPY TALE

I found the following ad at the classified site Kijij.ca (  SWEET LOVING PUPPY at Kijiji Edmonton  ) when I was looking in the Free Pets section. It was written so well and (with their permission) I have re-posted it here:

actual "SWEET PUPPY"

"SWEET LOVING PUPPY

Thank you. To whomever decided to abandon their dog in the middle of no where with no food or shelter. for leaving this (now) four pound puppy alone and scared, for tying a 4 foot length of shoe lace to her neck. And thank you, for being so concerned about her. In case you are wondering, she's safe now. She cowered in the bush for a few weeks, and when I found her she was starving, severely dehydrated, bloated, and scared. She's healthy, she's happy, and she's inside. She's warm when it's cold, and cool when it's hot. She has food and water, and someone was kind enough to rescue her the first time when she got scared in a lightning storm and almost hung herself with that make shift leash and collar.. Aka, shoe string.
Thank you for no tattoo, no microchip, for no missing ads, for not once knocking on doors to see if someone had her.

Thank you
I'm thanking you simply because she was probably receiving far better treatment while hiding and scared, starving and thirsty , cold and lonely, hiding from Coyotes, than she was when she was with you. Karma, it'll come for you. :)

**Update... It's been a week and a half since I found her, took her in, and fed her. I can no longer count her ribs, she's been groomed and trimmed, bathed and cuddled, and we are working on house training. She has her moments, which I'm sure attributed to you abandoning her in the country with no means of survival and a string tied to her neck. I've spoken to a vet whom I will see tomorrow, he's offered me free services and I'm grateful. I hope your life is better now that it is puppy free, and I sincerely hope you do not currently or in the future have children. If you think cleaning up puddles is tough, try changing a diaper. At least the puppy won't smear poop into your walls and sheets. I hoped Karma would find you but now I couldn't care less. You're a horrible person and I'm sure you will have no trouble finding your own bad Karma.

**happy update**. We had her weighed and aged today. She is approximately 4 months old and had gained 4 pounds since I took her in. She is in Great health, and will be moving into a forever home this week with a fantastic family.
This ad was posted from the Kijiji Classifieds app. You can download the app from Google Play. "

Thanks for sharing with us. And to everyone else, this might be a good time to follow the LINKS below to give a donation (while you're thinking about it). Or find your own local chapters.
Love Laura-Lee

ALBERTA SPCA

Edmonton Humane Society

THANKSGIVING: Grateful for “CRAP Day”

Monday was Thanksgiving Day for all of us Canadians (Americans celebrate it in November, but we folks in Canada are usually too snowed under to be grateful come November).
Even though it was a long weekend, it was a “crap day” for me. All of it “thanks” to my new cat, Monty.

Many of you know that I’m disabled so I don’t have a 9 to 5 job. This means that I am at home a great deal and since Monty is a “house” cat, we are at home TOGETHER a lot of the time. (sometimes too much of the time).

I adopted Monty from my local Humane Society. At the Shelter, as I was wandering through the “Cat Condos” and trying to decided (and holding my breath against the pungent smell of cat urine), I came across Monty’s cage. He was next to 3 other cages that all held several kittens. So, poor ol’ Monty wasn’t receiving too much attention. In fact, I first noticed him when one little girl remarked,
 “Look at this cat Mommy. I think he’s going to die soon.”
I followed her pointing finger to … Monty.

Now, I spent several years on a farm as a child, so I know a thing or two about animals. Although “Montgomery” (as the Shelter had arbitrarily named him) was not moving as much as a whisker (and he has a lot of them), he didn’t look sick. His eyes were wide and bright, there was no discharge from them or his nose or his ears. He just looked rather… um,  tired of it all. Basically I thought he looked healthy but really depressed. I could relate. And understand too.  I wouldn’t want to be in a small cage for days with strangers poking at me every couple minutes. (and of course you men will relate to not liking the neutering part).

Since I am not overly adventurous, I decided to take a step back and just observe Montgomery, the kittens, the giggling little girls and “life” for a while. Several other people stuck their hand into Monty’s cage (I held my breath the first couple of times) and stroked him, but there was no reaction from him at all. None. Zip. Nada. Not even his eyes moved.
Person after person opened his cage, gave him a rub or a tickle and then shut the cage and moved on.
I went over and found his “portfolio” which is a piece of paper in a file on the wall which has a photo of the cat, the cat’s cage number, a few details about the cat: “2 year old, neutered, male” and then a large area for “Comments”.

This last area is usually written from the cat’s point of view and is suppose to inform us of the cat’s personality and try to entice us to adopt them.
 
They usually read something like:

“Hi. My name is Princess. I’m a 4 year old spayed female. I don’t jump and play as much as I used to but I love to cuddle and I will purr for you if you want to rub my tummy. Because I am calm and older , I’d love to be in a home that has children because I’m so easy to get along with and respond to lots of attention. Blah, blah, blah.”  (You get the idea).

On “Montgomery’s” Portfolio under Comments  … completely blank. I must have looked at 20 portfolios by then and I had never seen one with no comments at all. Not much help to me there.
So I went back to “Montgomery’s” cage and opened it and stuck my hand in. He accepted the pet and rub (like all the other ‘millions’ of hands that had stroked him) with absolute complacency. And like everyone else, I gave an extra pat and a “poor boy” and then closed the cage. As I started to move away, he raised his head and looked at me. It was the first reaction I’d seen from him in 30 minutes. And in that one motion, something went “ping” in my heart.

I am still grieving pretty bad over Mom’s death, especially because we lived together for the last couple years of her life. A cat seemed a good idea because it was WAY too quiet at my apartment, but the main reason I was getting a cat was because of the mice I discovered running around my home.  It wasn’t that I particularly wanted a cat, I just preferred a cat to having the mice.

I spent 5 hours at the Humane Society getting interviewed,  filling out forms, doing paperwork, getting his medical record, etc. And went home that night with Montgomery, which I instantly changed to “Monty”.
 
For the first 3 days he followed me everywhere and was very needy and affectionate. He clung to me at the slightest sound. He was so tiny, scared and adorable. But he gradually came out of his shell and became what he is now. A clawing, biting, bundle of destruction.
Any cuddling now is definitely a “no no”. He comes and checks to see that I’m still around if I haven’t made any noise for a while (like when I’m reading),  but apart from filling his food and water dish, he’s made it pretty clear that he doesn’t need me. I don’t even think he likes me. He pretty much just tolerates me.
 
So now in my apartment, everything on the kitchen cupboards has been removed (except the Lysol wipes and paper towels because I need them constantly). I can’t use the oven or stove because he’s always on them and any cupboard or drawer open for longer than 2 seconds is fair game for him to jump into. All garbage cans are hidden away and I’ve accepted the idea that everything I own, from clothing to books, will at some point be destroyed by Monty. I can’t even figure out how to wash my dishes because he keeps putting his paws and tongue all over them the moment they come out of the clean water.
 
The words “move”, “get back”, “No”, or “stop” mean absolutely nothing to him and I get the joy of cleaning up his “packages” anywhere between 6-12 times a day.
I am not allowed to pick him up, touch him for more than the occasional pat or scratch (if he is so inclined) and any part of my body is fair game when it comes to those fierce little teeth of his. And when I’m in a nightgown, he will suddenly lunge at my bare legs to use as scratching posts.
Besides his regular male cat behaviour,  he has something like the cat version of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder because apparently he was a stray for quite a while before being picked up by the Humane Society.
And let us not forget that in the 6 weeks I’ve had him, he has been to the Veterinarian for deworming, eye infection, eye drops, antibiotics and behaviour issues which were answered by my Vet with (“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of a cat doing that”). Which is the same thing they said the 3 times I phoned the Humane Society Behaviour Hotline.

I’ve also taken to the Internet to find answers from other cat owners who tell me I have to assert myself as the “alpha male”. I lived on a farm so I knew how to “assert myself as an alpha male” when I was only a 7 year old little girl. Believe me, Monty couldn’t care less if I’m an “alpha male” or a Neo Nazi. 
On the farm I also dealt with dogs, cats (of the wilder, barn variety), cows, horses, mice (which  in those days I would spin and fling by their tails), squirrels, frogs, caterpillars, birds, and bugs. I’ve always had a sense about animals. A “way” with them, as people have told me. But on Monday, Monty drew the line!

He was more antsy and spastic than even usual and I decided while it was still warm enough weather I would take him for a walk. I thought we could both use the outing before the snow flies and we end up snowbound for the winter.
He has a little harness for when he goes walking but he decided that he didn’t want me to put it on. And, Oh Brother, he really meant it!

Now, he bites me all the time, but I’ve gotten pretty fast at getting my hands out of the way AND I know how to hold him so that he can’t get at them very easily. I tried several of these “tricks”, but he managed to get his teeth into me and WOULDN’T LET GO. He was hanging from my hand by his teeth.
There’s a way to open a cat’s jaw ( like when you need to feed them a pill) and I made that move on him pretty fast to get him to release his jaw and detach from my hand.
He had already been extra destructive and hostile (thus the “walk” idea) so by the time he took a bite out of me, I had had it!
  I quickly put him in the bathroom where his Litter box is kept and slid in (also quickly) his bowl of water.
A few minutes later, I let him out but shut myself into my bedroom. He protested very loudly about my shut bedroom door because he feels he should have complete and absolute freedom in his apartment. But I needed a “time out” even more than he did.
I came out a few hours later to clean out his Litter box and give him his supper. I tried to pet him and make up with him, but he didn’t want any thing to do with me. So I just let him be.

Then my brother came over and brought a Thanksgiving “care” package of food, fresh garden veggies, pie, and paper towels (amongst other things). And they were “Bounty”. Which are the best kind of paper towels and with Monty making messes, I never have enough paper towels!

So I was sitting there Monday evening thinking about whether or not I should keep Monty. And doing a lot of praying about it too. As far as I know, nothing has been done in the apartment building about the mice running around, but I haven’t seen even a sign of them since I got Monty. However, if it gets to the point I can’t even touch Monty anymore, how can I care for him properly? (And let’s not even mention my poor bleeding hands).
If he can be so suddenly vicious …? Well, …  twice already I’ve had to push someone’s hand away to keep Monty from leaping and biting it. I certainly wouldn't let a child into my apartment without shutting Monty up in a room.

To be honest, I was expecting some bad behaviour from Monty after he started feeling more secure. It often happens with younger children who have been abused too. Once they feel safe, they become so distraught they make the “terrible twos” look like a trip to Disney land.
But after 6 weeks I'm getting so nervous and jumpy because I know Monty may bite me at any time for any reason: on the leg if I’m standing/ on the arm if I’m sitting/ on any body part he can get to when I’m sleeping.
I hate to send Monty back to the Humane Society because with his hostile behaviour this pronounced he might not be able to be adopted out to anyone else. But mostly because I hate to give up on anyone: cat or human.
Basically,  if I can’t help a cat because he’s lived on the streets, been without the security of a home, has had to find his own meals out of garbage cans, knows what it’s like to be afraid day and night and can't even express love without biting, then HOW can I ever help a person who has been in that situation?!

And while I was doing this thinking and praying, Monty was roaming my apartment seeing what he could get in to. Doing his “weird” things too. (like literally trying to climb the walls, getting spastic and hissing at absolutely nothing). Then he got his “hands” on a roll of paper towels. I was about to get up and go and take it away from him, but before I could, he inadvertently pushed it off the counter top and it fell on the floor where I couldn’t see it. One second later Monty dove off the counter top to land on top of it. I couldn’t see him behind the cupboard, but I could hear him yowling and growling and no doubt ripping and tearing. I was just starting to get up to intervene in the situation but the Lord said to me very clearly, “By the time you get up and get to the paper towel roll it will already be unusable. Let Monty have his fun with it for a little while. It’s only paper towels and I just got a bunch of Bounty paper towels delivered right to your door. So you can spare it. Leave him his moment. He needs it and it doesn’t really matter. Does it?”

Since Mom died, that’s the thing that Jesus has been helping me with the most: what matters and what doesn’t.
I get it all straight in my mind and then I get caught up in the little trivialities of Life and I get uptight about things again.
What matters most: my cat or my paper towels? Making sure that everything is prim and proper or having a few moments of fun? Getting upset or chilling out?
When it’s my turn to join Mom in Heaven I won’t even remember those stupid paper towels. Or that I lost some belongings or the scratches on my arms or the bites on my hands. In fact, one truth I’ve discovered about death, it’s the unique things; the things that are not the normal or everyday is what is remembered the most.
 
A few hours after Mom died, I came home from the hospital to finally get some sleep. I decided to sleep in one of Mom’s nightgowns (she had done that when her Mom died, so I knew it would give me some comfort).
I knew exactly which nightgown I wanted. I had bought her a lovely one and a couple minutes after she put it on for the first time, she spilled chocolate pudding on it. She was so upset for ruining the nightgown that I had given her. And she washed it again and again and again to try to get the chocolate stains out. They never did come out and that first night without her here, I slipped into her nightgown and looked at the stain and thought how much it’s the things that make us different from each other that make us the most precious. The stain she hated was the stain I treasured (and still do).

So when Monty was apparently “killing” the paper towel roll just beyond where I could see him, I decided to heed God’s advice and just “let him be”.
When Monty’s “noise” behind the cupboards stopped I decided to sneak up and take a picture of what I guessed would be a paper towel roll ripped into tiny little bits and Monty with a “demonic” cat expression.
Here is the photo of what I found.



“MONTY”
HIDING UNDER PAPER TOWELS (he stayed there for 15 minutes)


Monty is teaching me about patience, about loving someone when they are hurting you and about never judging what’s going on inside someone. Sometimes when you think someone is purposely being evil and destructive, … maybe all they’re really looking for is someone to accept them as they are and to find a place to hide. (Even if it’s just for a little while)
 
“Lord? Thank you for Monty. Thank you for the surprises in life. Thank you for pushing me beyond what I think I can do. Thank you for giving all the wisdom and strength I will need to face whatever is coming. And thank you for always being with me.”

Happy Thanksgiving.
And I hope you find your blessings, wherever they may be hidden.

Love Laura-Lee (and Monty - my "training wheels" of life)

MONTY: People and Their Pets

I've heard some people say that owners and their pets start to resemble each other after a while. I just don't believe it.
 I'm sure it will never happen between Monty and myself.

Laura-Lee

Monty

At the beginning of  September (smack in the middle of the Labor Day long weekend actually), I saw two mice in my apartment at about 3:00 am when I got up to go to the bathroom. Just what I needed. Right?

Two days later I came home with my new cat, Monty. I got him at my local Humane Society. They gave him the name, Montgomery, but it just doesn't seem to fit him.

So, now that Mom is gone, I suppose I'm on my way to becoming the strange, Christian, Cat-Lady. Monty is probably just the first of my next 89 cats.

He is a full grown domestic short hair, tabby cross. Male and Neutered. I've only had experience with barn cats in the past, so a house cat is a completely new experience.

The Humane Society new almost nothing about him except that they supposed he had been stray for quite a while before they picked him up. He has a lot of behaviour issues. It's like living with a war veteran with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder ... in cat form.

But he certainly has made my life a lot more lively, and he has his cute and comical moments (which you will see). And I haven't seen one whisker of a mouse since he moved in.

I made a little video to introduce him to you. I'm sure I'll have more to say about him in the future. Probably by the time Christmas rolls around I'll be one of those owners who dresses their pets up in costumes and puts them on their Christmas Cards. We'll have to see.

For now, may I present, "A Night with Monty" (and he is "full" of it). My Full Monty.

Love Laura-Lee


UPDATE - November 1, 2013

I really do appreciate all the advice about cats and MONTY in particular that everyone is giving me. But please don't tell me to spray him with water anymore. It only ticks him off more.
Once I was running water in my kitchen sink and he decided to get into the sink at the same time. I flicked a little bit of water at him with my fingers. He got mad, lunged at me, sunk his teeth into my exposed armed and it took me a few seconds to "convince" him to let go. It bled for an entire day. So I don't think the water spray thing will work. But thanks for trying anyway.
L-L

P.S. But don't be hesitant to give other advice. I'll try anything at this point.