Risky Business

"There can be no vulnerability without risk; there can be no community without vulnerability; there can be no peace, and ultimately no life, without community." - M. Scott Peck

When I moved to Rockport in 1992 I left family and friends to pursue my career as a Home Economics teacher. Being a first year teacher was next to impossible and it consumed a lot of my time and energy. In the process of being “too” busy I always chose to sleep in on Sundays instead of going to church.
After about three year, two of my students (Jeremy and Brent) began trying to get me to start attending church. They weren’t worried about my eternal soul, oddly enough, what bothered them was I was living in isolation. Jeremy stated their case simply by saying, “Hanna, it takes a village.”
Today as I look back, I honestly believe that it was one of the most significant things anyone had ever said to me. It isn’t easy venturing out alone. I liken it to walking the plank. Over the years, however, I managed to involve myself in the local church and independent bible studies, as well as take art classes, and join a quilting group. I still had the high school with all its activities to be a part of and I added to that helping in Young Life. Each new activity provided new opportunities to connect with new people. Together, in these new relationships, we affect change in the world around us and become better people in the process. We built community among ourselves.
Since I had to retired last year this community has been an invaluable support. The burden of life seems more manageable when you don't have to manage it alone. Who is in your community? Is it diverse? Start reaching out because just as you have something to offer, they have something to give.
Community in action: Today Anne brought snacks. She saw I needed to have non-perishables that require very little preparation, so she loaded me up.

Christmas is Covered

Cat Tales from the Crypt

I read once in a book about the Oregon Trail that when people died they wrapped them in quilts and then sewed up the sides and buried them. I liked this idea because to me coffins are creepy.
So when a cat dies at my house, the ritual is to wrap him/her in fabric like a mummy, sew up the sides, and then get some guy I know with a shovel (usually Shane or Seth) to come over and dig a hole in the back corner of my lot.
The first cat to die was Francis. I wrapped him in muslin and tied him up with bows. Seth dug a hole and buried him so fast that Anne and I barely had time to cry; turns out Seth doesn't like crying and he wanted to get it over with as fast as possible.
The next cat to bite the dust was Coconut. I wrapped him in a white, terry cloth towel and actually did sew up the sides. Shane had the honors of burying this one. At the grave site I was a little confused (grief stricken) as to where Shane should start digging. I wanted Coconut next to Francis since they were buddies, so I pointed out a spot and Shane started plowing up the dirt. He had a strange look on his face as he dug and asked me if I was sure this was the right spot. As he was telling me that way the dirt moved and a snapping sound being made by the shovel that maybe…..oh my gosh, he was digging up Francis! I saw what looked like a femur with a ring of black fur around it. All the muslin and most of Francis had decomposed. Oddly enough the experience was more liberating than traumatizing. It made me happy to see that he was almost gone and not trapped in some claustrophobic subterranean state.
Later, Rusty died, but ironically I was in the hospital on life support when it happened. My brother David, Seth and Anne buried him being careful not to dig up dead thing 1 and dead thing 2. Carlene had put Rusty in a plastic garbage bag but Anne, knowing how I think in these regards, insisted that the cat be removed from the bag and buried au natural. She was right and I am thankful for her persistence.
O.K. here’s the deep part: I know when you’re dead your dead. We’ve all seen enough dead animals or people to know that whatever it is that makes them alive and real and wonderful is no longer present. The spirit is gone and all that remains is the flesh. So actually all we end up burying is the part of us that demands its own way and that’s fine with me.

"For the flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; and these are contrary to one another, that you may not do the things that you desire.....but the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faith, gentleness, and self-control. Against such things there is no law." (Galatians 5:17-23ish)

It's interesting to note that later, I found out that one of the ways Dr. Geneser used to determine if I could be taken off life support was by looking into my eyes. On that day he could see I was still alive and real and wonderful. So such is life.

For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. But if I am to live on in the flesh, this will mean fruitful labor for me; and I do not know which to choose. But I am hard-pressed from both directions, having the desire to depart and be with Christ, for that is very much better. (Phil. 1:21-23)

What's In a Name?

Names are important. My dad, Billy Thomas, didn't like his name, so he went by B.T. My mom, Carlene, wasn't given a middle name, but adopted the middle name Jo after seeing Little Women.
B.T. and Carlene did a good job naming their children. They also did a good job picking the spelling, because Catherine with a C is so much better than Katherine with a K, or Kathryn for that matter. I just got a call from someone I hadn't talked to in a while and they started with this, "Hey Cathy". Although I wasn't immediately sure who it was, I knew it to be a voice from my childhood.
I taught school for 14 years and heard Miss Hanna all the time. More often people in the community just called me Hanna. My pastor called me Hanna for months before his wife informed him my name was Catherine. He had no idea. I am always aware when I hear someone make the switch from Miss Hanna to Catherine. So yes names are important. Think about how much you like to hear your name. How did you get your name?
All that being said, when I name a pet it takes me a while. The name has to fit. I have a new kitten to name and I don't know what to call her. If you don't want to talk about your name, feel free to help me name this kitten. You should know she is scrawny, ferocious, unafraid and somehow girlie all at once.

Rainy Day

It has been raining for days. Luckily, it stopped long enough for Rpt., TX to have their annual fireworks extravaganza. I thought I'd post some pictures showing all the activities at my house inside and out.

1. Jerry and C.W.
2. Pine trees in the front.
3. Ditch behind my house. Those of you who know about Jerry's favorite hang-out will notice is completely under water.
4. Down the street this ditch feeds directly into the bay. When the water subsides there will be crabs and minnows stuck in the ditch. Call 911!
5. Manhole overflow.
6. Cookie has cabin fever so bad she took off in the rain.
7. I took off after her and came back soaked and drippy. I'm thinking about bangs.....what do you think?