Closing papers, hand outs of Grace, and Scratch…

25 03 2008

Another hurdle jumped: we signed the closing papers today.  I am totally annoyed with Wells Fargo.  They’re charging us $500 for paying off our mortgage!  Is this right?  Is this fair?  Argh!   The buyers are waiting for their HUD approval paper or whatever and the deed will be done Wednesday morning.  We will be free!  Trying to think of a way to make Wells Fargo eat their words.   I would like to feed them my fist as well.  Not feeling very forgiving, taking deep breaths…. ah.  Ok.

I have cleaned three bathrooms in two days and am feeling virtuous.  And sad.  I saw Monika briefly today.  How long will it be before I have friends for playdates here?

I need y’all to pray for a couple of people.  Coni (of Conisong on my blogroll), a very funny and wonderfully loving person, has been diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis.  This is supposedly not treatable or reversible, but as those of you who have experienced God’s divine healing know, with God ALL THINGS are possible!  I will never, ever forget the way God healed my back the last time.  I was in so much pain I could barely stand to sit on the couch.  I couldn’t sit, stand, or lie.  Then my son asked God to heal a canker sore in his mouth, and I was kind of snickering to myself.  God said, “Don’t laugh,” and he healed my back.  It felt just like someone pressing a heating pad against the small of my back for about thirty seconds.  I have never had trouble with my slipped disk again.  God HEALS.  Please pray for her.

I also need people to be in prayer for Kay.  I am praying that God will move heaven and earth on her behalf, and I am NOT taking no for an answer!   There’s a verse in Proverbs that says that God will give favor to a righteous servant, but I am not a servant.  I am an adopted daughter, joint heir with Christ to all the wealth and power of heaven.  When the father of the prodigal son received his son, he didn’t receive him as a servant.  And when his older son complained, he put his arm around him and said, “You are always with me, and all that I have is yours…”   All that God has is mine.  I don’t have to wait for handouts of grace.  My name is on the checkbook!  I have power of attorney, and a key to the safe deposit box!  And Lord, I want to make a withdrawl for Kay- I am withdrawing healing, forgiveness, resurrection, and restitution on behalf of my sister.  I loose her to be healed, and I bless the prayer team to pray over her with Holy Spirit insight and power to cut the bonds of the enemy and give her peace.  Like, right now, Lord!

On a more mundane note… there is something seriously wrong with Neal’s cat’s brain.  This animal (her name is Nutmeg) goes into the litter box and does her stuff.  But then, she can’t figure out how to bury it.  Now a dog is very relaxed about this issue.  They take a couple swipes with their back paws in the general direction of the smell and they’re off!  They don’t look back.   The cat, however…  She sniffs, and yes, it stinks.  (Fancy that!)  So she reaches out her dainty paw and scratches the side of the litter box.   Not the litter, now.  The hard plastic side of the litter box on the opposite side from the poop.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Then she sniffs again.  It still stinks.  (This is a surprise only to the cat.  The rest of us are gritting our teeth and thinking, “WHY won’t the stupid cat scratch the LITTER instead of the plastic box?”)  Since it still smells bad, she scratches again.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
I lie in bed some nights listening to this little production.  Sometimes she pauses to sniff, and I think, “Oh thank you Lord!  She has finally given up and gone to lie down!”  Then she starts again.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
She’s on a roll- really going to get that smell this time…
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Finally, I get so desperate to make her stop, I get out of bed, pull my robe on, and walk to the closet and BURY IT FOR HER!  Yes, at 2 a.m. I am burying Neal’s cat’s poop.  Neal is still sleeping.  I climb back in bed muttering to myself and swearing that the next house we own will have a cat door and I will never deal with a litter box again as long as I live.  Peace reigns.  The house is quiet.  The babies are sleeping.  Neal is snoring.  The cars are hissing by on the road, and I begin to slip back to sleep.
But…
Somewhere in the darkness, Nutmeg is slipping out from under a piece of furniture.  Her delicate nose, keenly tuned to detect the odor of prey even when the scent is several days cold, smells something…  The box still stinks.
And
just
as
I
am
about
to
fall
asleep….
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch…

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One response

25 03 2008
Grandma Wilhite

I can’t offer any comfort here! Our good friend Tinkerbell, affectionaly called “Tink”, had that malady, except that she didn’t care. Now that may be because our house was big enough to fan out the stink! She would scratch on both sides of her poop, and then wave the air and go away! Even outdoors, she left her mark, only outdoors, there was the breeze. I don’t know if the neighbors noticed!
Doris

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