Saturday, May 23, 2020

Introducing Kasee Ellison: Guardian Angel

For those of you interested in the story of Kasee the Kitten:

A week ago today, I awoke to a phone call.  "Did you see Becky's text about the kitten?" Jan asked.  I had vaguely heard the vibration of my phone receiving texts but hadn't picked it up as I was still sleepy.  Jan told me that one of our friends, who is also a SpiritWorks parents, Becky, had found a kitten.  She wanted me to look at the picture.

I reached over the side of the bed to grab my phone and saw the picture of a tiny white kitten peering around the side of a planter.  Along with the picture was a text:  This little kitten was thrown over my fence late last night.  She looks just like Katie's cat.  I can't keep her because I'm allergic but I was wondering if maybe she came here for Lauren.

At 11:00 the night before, Becky had convinced her husband, Eric, to sit outside for awhile.  As they sat by the pool, breathing in the sweet, honeysuckle air, a bright light streaked across the darkness.  "What was that?" Becky asked.  Eric answered, "A meteor."  They sat talking for awhile longer until they heard a loud rustling under the trees near the fence.  At first they thought it was a large bird.  Since it was past midnight, Eric suggested they turn in, but when they heard a crying sound, Becky became convinced it was a kitten.  "That's not a bird.  I'm going to check it out."  She started making meowing sounds and heard an answering cry.  When she got to the fence, she found a little white kitten stranded in the brush.  She tried to pick her up gently, but the kitten was too scared and ran away.

Becky kept meowing and talking to the kitten until she ventured almost to the pool deck.  At that point, Eric decided to head inside, and Becky told him she'd be right in.  Instead she laid down on the ground and talked to her new tiny buddy.  She told her about Katie and then told her about me, sure that the kitten had come to comfort me and help me get well.  Becky fell asleep talking to her and woke around 2:30.  Time to go to bed and see what the morning would bring. 

Early the next morning, Becky and Eric headed to the yard to see if the kitten was still there.  Eric strode quickly to the pool, fearing that the tiny cat might have stumbled into it and drowned.  He didn't want Becky to find the furry being in the skimmer.  Becky made meowing sounds and heard a responding cry.  She fed the kitten some tuna.

Then she texted Jan and me, sending the picture of the little white ball of fluff.  She's going to need someone kind.
I'm kind.  I texted back.
Will you take her?
Yes, Lauren will take her Jan offered.  "I love her," she told me on the phone.  

Katie's kitten, Ouija
We made arrangements to meet Becky and Eric at SpiritWorks.  "Her name can be K.C., Katie's Cat." Jan suggested.  I instantly liked it.

Katie was Becky and Eric's vibrant, fierce, theatre-loving, singing, acting, dancing, twenty-four year old daughter.  The daughter I had gotten to meet only days before she died of a fatal overdose.  Some years ago, Katie had found a kitten named her Ouija who looked nearly identical to this new kitten. Becky knew that Katie had sent her to us.  "Katie always thought I could save any animal that was hurt."

When we arrived at SpiritWorks, all wearing masks, Becky was holding the little cutie all wrapped up in a big white towel.  She transferred her to me, and the bond was instant.  She was adorable, and I knew I'd do what I could to keep her safe and give her a chance at life.

Over the course of the morning, as we drove to PetSmart to pick up kitten supplies and then to the emergency vet to get her checked out since she appeared to have a significant wound on her face, we wondered how this kitten had found her way to Becky.  Was she dumped over the fence by a cruel human?  Was she thrown into Becky's yard because one of Katie's friends knew she would take care of her?  Did a predator hawk or owl steal her away from her mama and then drop her as she fought for her life?  We'll never know, but we're guessing Katie had a hand in it.  This kitten is so like her, fierce, fun-loving, and full of life. 

As we waited at the animal hospital, Jan and I discussed other names - Henrietta, 'Rona, Midnight, Rosa, biblical names, names with special meanings.  We called her Midnight for the vet's record; I couldn't let them put "No Name" on the chart, and she had been discovered at midnight.  We weren't yet sure if she was female. The vet called us as we waited in the car and said the kitten was a she, about 5-6 weeks old, that she had had a rough start and that she was a bit of a fixer-upper.  He had glued together a laceration on her hind leg, and treated her for worms.  She needed surgery to fix her wounded lip because it was hanging into her mouth.  She might have intestinal parasites - don't introduce her to other pets yet. Mostly she needed food, antibiotics, and lots of TLC to stabilize her.

When they brought her out to us, we were so relieved.  "Her name is K.C.," Jan said, and I agreed.  Katie's Cat but with her own spelling of the name - Kasee.  And Ellison after the first African American deaconess, Anna Ellison Butler Alexander.  

Kasee Ellison.  Guardian Angel.  Gift from Katie.  And God.

We looked up Kasee and found a definition in the Urban Dictionary:  Super smart girl... and fun to be with.  Can make anyone laugh, is always smiling.  Can't stand not knowing the answer to anything.  Always wears the crown in a situation.  People wish they were as cool as Kasee, and want to be her every day of their lives.  Seemed we'd chosen the right name.  Becky approved.

Kasee adjusted quickly to her new home.  She's a sweet, loving, curious, purring, cuddly, joyful kitten with an extraordinary will to live.  She was born in this corona virus time and has overcome the odds.  She sailed through her surgery just fine and has been unstoppable - except when she keels over for a nap.  

Coronatide has not stolen my joy, but it had diminished it.  Kasee has restored it, reminding me to stay in the present, to laugh at myself, to take things less seriously, to nap often, and to focus on those who need my love, even if they leave poo-ey foot prints on my clothes and floor.  She fills me with delight.  I do not yet have the energy to keep up with her, and she seems to forgive me for that, but she also fills me with hope that I can be as resilient as she is.  

I don't know why I am so lucky to have this precious little being entrusted to my care, but I am so grateful to Katie, to Becky and Eric, to Jan, her other mama, who fell in love with her first, and especially to God who always blesses me more than I can ask for or imagine.

Belongs to both SpiritWorks and the church!

Thursday, May 14, 2020

8 Weeks In - Plateau


Me with my warmies.
Today marks the end of 8 weeks since I first began experiencing symptoms of Covid-19.
I haven't checked in here for a couple of weeks because there hasn't been anything new to say.  It seems that on my journey from mostly recovered to fully recovered, I have come to a plateau.  Each day feels the same.  I get up, thinking that this'll be the day/week I'm going to get better.  I make my bed, take my shower, feed the cat, and then I lie down and rest before I muster the energy to make my bowl of cereal.  Or I eat the cereal and then lie down and rest.  Sometimes I'm able to sit in a chair on my front stoop and drink my cup of tea in the sun.  Each day I decide on things I'm going to do, and rarely do I get to any of them because there is. no. energy.

I was so excited the day that my doctor's office said I could start building strength by taking five minute walks and then adding five minutes each day.  I took the first one on a Thursday.  On Friday I didn't have enough energy for a walk, and on Saturday I had to lie down all day to rest.  It wasn't causal - one 5 minute walk didn't wipe me out for two days; it's just the progress of this virus.  About a week after that first walk, I was ready to take another 5 minute walk.  Since then I've been able to build gradually, carefully listening to my body.  Instead of jumping from 5 to 10 minutes, I went to 7 and then 8.  Now I'm up to a 12 minute walk and grateful for it.  (I read a great article today from MedPage Today that helped me feel not so alone in this and taught me a new word:  sequelae - a condition which is the consequence of a previous injury or disease.  You can read the article HERE.)

This is the stage where I've run out of wisdom and patience.  I'm frustrated and irritable and restless - usually signs of returning health, but still no energy.  When my bishop wisely directed me again this week not to return to work, I was ready to rebel.  Even as I grumbled, I recognized that she was right.  The spirit is willing, but the flesh is still very weak.  I long to return to helping with the Sunday live-stream and making liturgical videos and facilitating groups and making pastoral calls, but I can feel that I don't have the energy to sustain the work.  I'm mad and sad and so sick of being weak and  tired.

The only puzzle I had - but it was fun!
All over again, I have to surrender. I am powerless over my disease, and my job right now is taking care of my health.  And that means accepting that time takes time and full recovery is going to take the time it's going to take.  So I've finished a puzzle, watched many episodes of Little House on the Prairie, attended Facebook Live Indigo Girls Concerts, participated in a Giving Day for SpiritWorks, received some lovely flowers and cards and emails, and thought about doing many things.  Until today I haven't even had energy for another blog post!

Tonight I listened to the Indigo Girls play their Album Rites of Passage live.  One of the songs toward the end, one I haven't listened to in a long time, was "Let It Be Me." The lyric, "When the world is night, shine my life like a light," really sank in.  That's my prayer tonight.  That God will shine my life like a light, even though I'm unable to do very much right now.

But friends, and I hesitate to say this too loudly, yesterday afternoon a little energy returned.  And today, I only needed to lie down for one period of time.  So no rejoicing yet, because I've been here before and a new fatigue wave always comes, but I am left with hope as I head to sleep.  Perhaps, perhaps in week 9, I will kick COVID's butt!  Stay tuned...

Sunday, May 3, 2020

7 Weeks In: Surrender


Last Sunday I went back and watched my Easter Vigil sermon.  (Video below.)  Usually I don't watch recordings of my sermons.  It's uncomfortable.   But I did it for two reasons. One was that I've had trouble remembering we are still in the Easter season.  Coronatide feels more like Lent.  But I knew I'd felt Easter joy on the night we recorded the Vigil service, and I wanted to reconnect to that.  And the second reason I wanted to watch was to check my memory.  I remember having energy that night - could it be I was mistaken? When I rewatch the video, I do see a healthy looking person with lots of energy.  It doesn't look like a person who would resume living life on a couch a mere two days later.

Turned out there was a third reason - I needed to hear my own sermon.  I've often said that preachers are usually preaching to themselves and then hoping others need to hear the same message.  That was definitely true for me.

This week marks my seventh since beginning to experience symptoms of COVID-19.  I can still feel the virus in me - not in my chest anymore.  I think it's in the lymphatic system.  I feel it in my back below each shoulder.  This past week I thought it had gone because the ache left for a few days, but Friday it returned along with a new wave of fatigue.  I really hadn't been pushing - my doctor's office said I could start taking 5 minute walks, and I only did that once.  But clearly my immune system still needs me to rest so it can boot this virus out once and for all.

The message I needed to hear from my sermon is surrender.  And what I mean by that is recognizing my utter dependence on God.  Surrendering my will to God's will.  God is God, and I am not.  I am powerless over other people.  I am powerless over this virus.  Each time I try to assert my control, the virus smacks me back down.  God isn't smacking me down - each time I pray, I hear God encouraging me to rest, telling me it's okay to surrender and let God be in charge.  God knows what I need.  But it sure is hard for me to let go.

Surrender is a term I'd never really thought about until I got into recovery from codependence.  At the time someone recommended I try an Al Anon meeting.  When I went to the Al Anon webpage, I got mad.  There were other people in my life who needed to work a 12-step program, not me!  I didn't have a problem.  I couldn't believe that I needed to go to some meeting or work some program.  After all, I was already doing all of the work. I was saving the day.  I was exhausted from everything I was doing.  Why did I have to add something else to my schedule?  And why on earth would I be part of a program that insisted I acknowledge my powerlessness - I needed a program to empower me!

The truth was that I needed recovery.  When I try to rescue other people or save the day so that others don't experience their consequences, when I hide how I truly feel in order to please other people, when I try to control everything so that nothing falls apart, I'm doing things that don't help but rather hinder growth and health.  When I try to force the solutions to fit the outcomes I want, then I don't leave space for God.  When I'm able to recognize my powerlessness, then I open up space for God to work.  God will meet me where I am and redeem whatever is going on, if only I will stop fighting for control.  

I can be pretty hardheaded when it comes to surrender - I can do it all on my own, I think. This virus is teaching me that I can't.  And apparently it will keep teaching me until I learn. Thankfully I do believe that God can do infinitely more than I can ask for or imagine, and I trust that will be the case now too.  God is meeting me where I am in my illness and doing for me what I cannot do for myself.  God will bring me out of this time into new life.

Hopefully I'm not the only one learning this lesson in coronatide.  It's a lesson the whole world needs to hear if we're going to survive and thrive.  God is the one who brings light out of the darkness and breathes new life into the whole creation. Will we surrender and let God?

Sermon at 46:27.  Sermon text is here.