Since Zoey died, Hunter has become very clingy. He has decided that my sole purpose in life is to provide him with a continuous cuddle and a comfortable lap. No matter what I am doing, he watches me, sometimes sternly, as though I am failing to understand what he wants.
Yesterday, while I was getting some chores done, he followed me from room to room, hoping I was going to finally land somewhere so he could join me. Jenna and I found this hilarious. I started a poem:
“Pammy had a little cat,
His fur was gray as soot,
And everywhere that Pammy went …”
Hmm. I was stuck for a rhyme, but Jenna wasn’t.
“Her cat was under foot.”
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Poor Hunter. He is learning a hard truth: a lot of life is spent waiting. It is true for humans, too. Waiting may not be our choice, but we get to choose how we wait. Impatiently? In frustration? With resignation? With depression?
Or maybe with hope. Because we know Who we are waiting for.
I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits,
and in his word I put my hope.
Psalm 130:5 NIV
Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess,
for he who promised is faithful.
Hebrews 10:23 NIV
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I choose hope. So does Hunter. Again, and again. He’s choosing it right now.
I have to go. Someone is waiting for me to make a lap.