God is with me.
Jesus is with me.
Well, no. But I imagine that he is.
The reality is, I am missing someone terribly. A human being. I am mourning for a life that is over.
So I imagine Jesus sitting with me.
That’s what You are: an imagining, a compensation.
Have I mentioned that my remaining cat has come into her own? Since I had my 15-year-old cat euthanized in the summer, my 9-year-old cat has blossomed. She came to me from the shelter at 6 months of age. For the next 8.5 years, she remained timid, anxious, and only occasionally affectionate, always on her terms. She might let me hold her for, say, 10 seconds, before tensing and jumping away. I always let her go. But she cuddled with my older cat and they seemed to have a good life together, so I thought she was simply as she was meant to be.
But since the death of her companion, she has become a bolder, bigger version of herself. Overnight she became vocal, scolding me into the kitchen, scolding me as I measure out her breakfast, and scolding me after breakfast has been inhaled. Not only does she allow me to pick her up, she lays her head on my shoulder and purrs loudly enough to set me vibrating. She now climbs up on the upholstered chair and patrols behind me, head-bumping me repeatedly. She is big, and calm, and serene.
I give thanks, I give thanks, I give thanks.
I imagine someone sitting near me.
My cat is real; You’re not. Explain to me, how are You better than a cat? You and all Your fine words give me less comfort than this vulnerable, innocent animal, who will leave me one day.
October 4, 2020 COVID-19 Infections and Deaths