From STORIES FROM JONES FARM
Copyright December 1986
[part 4]
In the middle of the night, Alice suddenly woke up.
"Mother, I had a dream!" she said. "Cat was running all the way home from the Vet's office. He got to Grandmother's house, and she hugged him. Then he came here, first to the garden, then up to me in the carport. He looked at my face, and said, 'Alice! Meow, Alice!' Then he jumped up, and I was holding him in my arms!"
"That is a very special dream," said Mother sleepily. "Maybe God sent you that special dream." Alice quieted down, and Mother put her hand out to Alice's foot, so that Alice would know Mother was there as she fell asleep. Then Mother, too, had a special dream.
"Alice! Meow, Alice!" Cat was saying, and he seemed to be looking for her. He was in a beautiful garden with all sorts of flowers and trees everywhere, and he was very big--almost as big as a young lion--with bright new fur just like his own, only even more beautiful.
"Why am I so big?" Cat said to himself loudly.
Someone was working nearby, replanting a myrtle bush. He was on his knees in khaki overalls, and had several gardening tools on the ground beside him.
"Here in my garden, Merryweather, you're as big as your light is. Your little light on earth was much bigger than your body!"
Supposing him to be the gardener, Cat said quietly, as if awestruck, "This is the most beautiful garden I have ever seen. I have never seen so many flowers and trees, or so many animals. I have never seen wolves and Angus calves like my calves at home sleeping under myrtle bushes together!" said Cat. The gardener picked up Cat, and Cat rode comfortably in the gardener's arms.
All at once, Cat saw a golden-haired girl leading a rhinoceros by a little blue ribbon.
"Alice?" Cat said, but the little child turned around, and Cat could see that it wasn't Alice's face looking into his. Cat had carefully memorized every detail of Alice's face for just such an occasion as this.
"I used to wear a lavendar ribbon," Cat said, looking up to the gardener, for he was still in the gardener's arms, "and Erin led me all around our house...and Nick had a funny name he called me. He called me 'cattle' and called the dog "doggle.' Is my dog here?" Cat asked inquisitively.
"Not yet," said the gardener. "Alice, and Nick, and Erin will be here someday, too," said the gardener, "but you must be very patient. My people live much longer than my animals."
Then Cat got down out of the gardener's arms to investigate something. He thought he saw a Collie puppy who might give him a good chase, if he could sneak up on him just right.
Mother woke up with a start, hearing a little bird singing in the distance. Then she smiled, and closed her eyes. The next morning at breakfast Mother told the children about her dream, and read in the Bible to them about the Garden of Eden and about Isaiah's holy mountain that belongs to God.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Last Rites for Mr. Merryweather (3)
From STORIES FROM JONES FARM
Copyright December 1986
[Part 3]
"Why are you crying?" asked Nick, who had been sitting quietly in his little rocking chair for a long time. "If Cat's in heaven, we shouldn't be sad at all."
"I know," said Mother, blowing her nose again. "It's just that we will miss our Merryweather so much, and crying is the only way I can get this sad spot out of my chest. I feel sad right here," said Mother, pointing to about where her heart was.
Just then the phone rang. It was Father at work. Alice blasted in from the girls' room; Erin jumped down from the kitchen counter top; but Nick took the short cut under the kitchen table and pushed a chair up in time to get the first turn. The children told Father all about Merryweather's funeral before Mother got an opportunity to speak to Father. Finally, it was Mother's turn.
"I'm glad you took care of the funeral and things," said Father. "It was better to bury Cat today in the good daylight, even though I couldn't be there. I'll go by the Vet's office and pay the bill on my way home tonight."
Alice had a good cry on Father's lap that night when he got home, saying that she was really crying because her eraser wouldn't fit on her school pencil anymore. Later Nick and Erin got into a fight, giving each other little shoves, then both sat down and cried, making little snubbing sounds--looking up occasionally to glare at each other like they were angry--for a good half hour. Mother didn't scold them this time, because she knew it was good that their feelings had burst out.
Their Black Labrador, Wrong-Way Dog (so named on the farm where he was born when he kept running away from prospective owners), loped across the field that night from Grandmother's to meet Father's car. Wrong-Way received an unusual number of hugs as the kids made various trips outside to talk to him. Finally, Wrong-Way got to sleep in the basement, though he sniffed questioningly around the favorite hiding places of Mr. Merryweather, who had often shared the basement with him on nights when the weather dipped below the freezing mark.
The children closed the basement door and went dutifully off to prepare for bed. Alice returned to the living room for the inspection of her freshly brushed teeth.
"I hope you die when I do," Alice said, her mouth still frothy from toothpaste.
"Thank you, Alice," said Mother smiling, "but most parents would rather that their children live longer than they do, so they can carry on, you know." That night Alice and Erin wanted Mother to sleep with them, so Mother stretched herself across the foot of their bed.
Copyright December 1986
[Part 3]
"Why are you crying?" asked Nick, who had been sitting quietly in his little rocking chair for a long time. "If Cat's in heaven, we shouldn't be sad at all."
"I know," said Mother, blowing her nose again. "It's just that we will miss our Merryweather so much, and crying is the only way I can get this sad spot out of my chest. I feel sad right here," said Mother, pointing to about where her heart was.
Just then the phone rang. It was Father at work. Alice blasted in from the girls' room; Erin jumped down from the kitchen counter top; but Nick took the short cut under the kitchen table and pushed a chair up in time to get the first turn. The children told Father all about Merryweather's funeral before Mother got an opportunity to speak to Father. Finally, it was Mother's turn.
"I'm glad you took care of the funeral and things," said Father. "It was better to bury Cat today in the good daylight, even though I couldn't be there. I'll go by the Vet's office and pay the bill on my way home tonight."
Alice had a good cry on Father's lap that night when he got home, saying that she was really crying because her eraser wouldn't fit on her school pencil anymore. Later Nick and Erin got into a fight, giving each other little shoves, then both sat down and cried, making little snubbing sounds--looking up occasionally to glare at each other like they were angry--for a good half hour. Mother didn't scold them this time, because she knew it was good that their feelings had burst out.
Their Black Labrador, Wrong-Way Dog (so named on the farm where he was born when he kept running away from prospective owners), loped across the field that night from Grandmother's to meet Father's car. Wrong-Way received an unusual number of hugs as the kids made various trips outside to talk to him. Finally, Wrong-Way got to sleep in the basement, though he sniffed questioningly around the favorite hiding places of Mr. Merryweather, who had often shared the basement with him on nights when the weather dipped below the freezing mark.
The children closed the basement door and went dutifully off to prepare for bed. Alice returned to the living room for the inspection of her freshly brushed teeth.
"I hope you die when I do," Alice said, her mouth still frothy from toothpaste.
"Thank you, Alice," said Mother smiling, "but most parents would rather that their children live longer than they do, so they can carry on, you know." That night Alice and Erin wanted Mother to sleep with them, so Mother stretched herself across the foot of their bed.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Last Rites for Mr. Merryweather (2)
From STORIES FROM JONES FARM
Copyright December 1986
[Part 2]
As she opened the door, Alice's fully-blossomed six-year-old skepticism got the best of her.
"I'm not so sure Cat was in that box!" Alice announced.
"I'm sure the Vet was telling the truth," said Mother. "I'm sure she put Merryweather in there gently. She did her best."
"Was it our fault that Cat died?" asked Nick.
"No," said Mother, "we did our best, too."
"If we dig up Cat tomorrow, will his bones be there?" piped Alice, who had seen birds' bones turned up by the plow after some of their more hasty bird funerals.
"No," said Mother, "it takes some time for a cat's body to turn to dust."
"Does God dig up his soul, then?" persevered Alice.
"No," Mother answered gently as she put her hand on Alice's shoulder. "A soul is something like a little light. It goes to heaven without our seeing it. His body on earth was so worn out that Merryweather's little light couldn't stay in it anymore."
"An animal's soul," Mother continued, "isn't exactly like our souls. For one thing, animals don't sin. For all we know, animals may see the angels who around us all the time, who are invisible to us because of sin, and animals may see Jesus walking among them on earth, just like He did in the New Testament. When we get to heaven, we may be so excited seeing Jesus and the angels that we may forget at first to look for Merryweather."
"Can he come back to see us then?" asked Erin.
"No," said Mother, "once a creature goes back to heaven where his soul was made, he just doesn't want to come back to earth anymore."
"I hope I get to go to heaven tomorrow to see Mr. Merryweather," Erin said decisively.
"Oh, don't be in such a hurry," smiled Mother, as she got a bowl of yeast dough out of the refrigerator and started kneading it to make rolls. "You're just four years old, Erin, and it hasn't been long since God made your soul and sent you to Daddy and me. Stay here with us a while. Besides, God would be mad at you if you tried to get back to heaven before your work was done, and only He will know when that is. People are supposed to try to live a hundred years if they can at all."
"Will Merryweather remember me after a hundred years?" asked Erin, who by now had flour from Mother's breadboard all over her hands and was sitting on the kitchen counter top close by.
"I'm sure he will," said Mother. "Remember what Great-Uncle Walter said when his cat, Scooter, died last summer? He said, 'If the lion can lie down with the lamb, I can at least look for my cat.' He was talking about when he goes to heaven, and he will probably go sooner than we will, because he's a lot older than we are."
Suddenly, Mother began to cry. She had flour and dough all over her hands, and had to wash them at the kitchen sink before she could rip loose a paper towel to dry her eyes and blow her nose.
Copyright December 1986
[Part 2]
As she opened the door, Alice's fully-blossomed six-year-old skepticism got the best of her.
"I'm not so sure Cat was in that box!" Alice announced.
"I'm sure the Vet was telling the truth," said Mother. "I'm sure she put Merryweather in there gently. She did her best."
"Was it our fault that Cat died?" asked Nick.
"No," said Mother, "we did our best, too."
"If we dig up Cat tomorrow, will his bones be there?" piped Alice, who had seen birds' bones turned up by the plow after some of their more hasty bird funerals.
"No," said Mother, "it takes some time for a cat's body to turn to dust."
"Does God dig up his soul, then?" persevered Alice.
"No," Mother answered gently as she put her hand on Alice's shoulder. "A soul is something like a little light. It goes to heaven without our seeing it. His body on earth was so worn out that Merryweather's little light couldn't stay in it anymore."
"An animal's soul," Mother continued, "isn't exactly like our souls. For one thing, animals don't sin. For all we know, animals may see the angels who around us all the time, who are invisible to us because of sin, and animals may see Jesus walking among them on earth, just like He did in the New Testament. When we get to heaven, we may be so excited seeing Jesus and the angels that we may forget at first to look for Merryweather."
"Can he come back to see us then?" asked Erin.
"No," said Mother, "once a creature goes back to heaven where his soul was made, he just doesn't want to come back to earth anymore."
"I hope I get to go to heaven tomorrow to see Mr. Merryweather," Erin said decisively.
"Oh, don't be in such a hurry," smiled Mother, as she got a bowl of yeast dough out of the refrigerator and started kneading it to make rolls. "You're just four years old, Erin, and it hasn't been long since God made your soul and sent you to Daddy and me. Stay here with us a while. Besides, God would be mad at you if you tried to get back to heaven before your work was done, and only He will know when that is. People are supposed to try to live a hundred years if they can at all."
"Will Merryweather remember me after a hundred years?" asked Erin, who by now had flour from Mother's breadboard all over her hands and was sitting on the kitchen counter top close by.
"I'm sure he will," said Mother. "Remember what Great-Uncle Walter said when his cat, Scooter, died last summer? He said, 'If the lion can lie down with the lamb, I can at least look for my cat.' He was talking about when he goes to heaven, and he will probably go sooner than we will, because he's a lot older than we are."
Suddenly, Mother began to cry. She had flour and dough all over her hands, and had to wash them at the kitchen sink before she could rip loose a paper towel to dry her eyes and blow her nose.
Last Rites for Mr. Merryweather (1)
From STORIES FROM JONES FARM
Copyright December 1986
Synopsis: Alice, Nick, and Erin had had a very hard day. They had brought a white corrugated cardboard box, the size of their favorite picnic basket, home from the Vet's office. Inside the box was their golden Tabby cat who had loved to ride in the picnic basket, but now had died. They buried him under their largest pear tree and said a prayer to God, thanking him for making such a special cat as theirs. Then Mother had a dream....
[Part 1]
"Ready?" asked Grandfather. Grandfather was sitting atop his tractor and had plowed out a special part of the garden under their largest pear tree so that Mr. Merryweather's box could be buried.
"I feel degraded," muttered Grandfather, "taking off from my business to bury a cat!" Mother smiled. She thought of how many pets Grandfather had buried for her through the years. Sure enough, his eyes were wet behind his glasses as always, and he was being gruff, hoping no one would notice. Mother and the children bowed their heads.
Mr. Morris "Pumpkinface" Merryweather had been the children's first cat. The children were four, five, and six years old. They weren't quite sure how old Mr. Merryweather was, because they had found him half-starved in the schoolyard less than a year before and had nursed him back to health. Mr. Merryweather had apparently died of old age, and had aged quickly in a life scrounging on his own for a livelihood. The Vet thought the children had probably been Mr. Merryweather's first family.
"Thank you, God, for making such a wonderful cat as Mr. Merryweather," said Mother.
"Thank you for the day we found him," said Nick, "and for Grandmother who paid for his shots and license. Thank you that he didn't get mashed, sitting in my rocking chair with me."
"Thank you that Mr. Merryweather's golden Tabby fur was just the color of our hair so that we matched," said Alice.
"Thank you that Cat liked to wear my doll clothes," said four-year-old Erin. "Mommy," said Erin looking up, "who's going to wear my doll clothes now?"
"I guess your doll can have them back, now," said Mother quietly, and she added, "Amen."
Grandfather started up the tractor motor and, with an attachment on the front of the tractor, smoothed the dirt over Cat's white box. The box was marked "RUSH--VETERINARY SUPPLIES," and was sealed with bandage tape. The children pulled up some of the golden weeds nearby, weeds Mr. Merryweather had often hidden in for Hide-and-Seek. They strewed weeds over the newly smoothed dirt, and then walked back to their house.
Copyright December 1986
Synopsis: Alice, Nick, and Erin had had a very hard day. They had brought a white corrugated cardboard box, the size of their favorite picnic basket, home from the Vet's office. Inside the box was their golden Tabby cat who had loved to ride in the picnic basket, but now had died. They buried him under their largest pear tree and said a prayer to God, thanking him for making such a special cat as theirs. Then Mother had a dream....
[Part 1]
"Ready?" asked Grandfather. Grandfather was sitting atop his tractor and had plowed out a special part of the garden under their largest pear tree so that Mr. Merryweather's box could be buried.
"I feel degraded," muttered Grandfather, "taking off from my business to bury a cat!" Mother smiled. She thought of how many pets Grandfather had buried for her through the years. Sure enough, his eyes were wet behind his glasses as always, and he was being gruff, hoping no one would notice. Mother and the children bowed their heads.
Mr. Morris "Pumpkinface" Merryweather had been the children's first cat. The children were four, five, and six years old. They weren't quite sure how old Mr. Merryweather was, because they had found him half-starved in the schoolyard less than a year before and had nursed him back to health. Mr. Merryweather had apparently died of old age, and had aged quickly in a life scrounging on his own for a livelihood. The Vet thought the children had probably been Mr. Merryweather's first family.
"Thank you, God, for making such a wonderful cat as Mr. Merryweather," said Mother.
"Thank you for the day we found him," said Nick, "and for Grandmother who paid for his shots and license. Thank you that he didn't get mashed, sitting in my rocking chair with me."
"Thank you that Mr. Merryweather's golden Tabby fur was just the color of our hair so that we matched," said Alice.
"Thank you that Cat liked to wear my doll clothes," said four-year-old Erin. "Mommy," said Erin looking up, "who's going to wear my doll clothes now?"
"I guess your doll can have them back, now," said Mother quietly, and she added, "Amen."
Grandfather started up the tractor motor and, with an attachment on the front of the tractor, smoothed the dirt over Cat's white box. The box was marked "RUSH--VETERINARY SUPPLIES," and was sealed with bandage tape. The children pulled up some of the golden weeds nearby, weeds Mr. Merryweather had often hidden in for Hide-and-Seek. They strewed weeds over the newly smoothed dirt, and then walked back to their house.
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