I think we got a cat. Or, at least, Dad thinks we did. Last night, while Grace was putting up the Christmas tree, Dad announces that he found a stray cat living in the basement. He gave it leftover turkey and a bowl of water and then—to Mom’s chagrin—brought it inside. This is not a small cat: it’s a big yellow thing with scruffy long hair and an angry face. He (it looks like a boy, but we’re not sure) has a large frame, but he is very thin and you can see his spine when he moves. The cat was very comfortable with all of us, though, and seemed pleased to be indoors, receiving attention. He sat in the middle of the floor and kneaded the blanket with his paws, looking around at all of us with half-closed eyes.
Mom named him Oliver but Sam said that was lame and renamed him Chuck Norris. Chuck Norris/Oliver obviously couldn’t sleep inside—being “almost certainly infected with fleas and rabies and mange,” according to my grandmother—so Dad said he would go in the basement and make him a bed. “You’ve never made me a bed!” Mom exclaimed. Dad shrugged and laughed. “Why do you love this cat so much?” She asked, knowing he’s not much of a cat person. “Oliver is the only one in this family who’s never been disappointed in me,” he said with a smile, cat in arms.
Who knows if we’ll keep Chuck Norris/Oliver or not. Dad said he is going to pick up some cat food after he gets his chin sewn up (apparently, it got split open today by a puck). This family of mine...
My legs are still whining about what I made them do on Thanksgiving morning. If it weren’t for Elizabeth, I probably wouldn’t have run all five miles, but I did. We hit the four-mile mark and I was feeling ready to quit. She looks at me with a bright smile and says, “We’re almost done. Hope gives energy!” This is true. What would I do without my Shetland pony? (Love you, Elizabeth.)
The Flems gave Kelsey this great little gift for her birthday: it’s a box of cards (called Table Topics) with excellent questions on them—stuff like, Would you rather be smarter, better looking, or more athletic? Or What is your definition of integrity and do you have it? Or What wild animal would you tame and keep as a pet? We were playing at dinner and the question was, “Which family would you choose to live with for one year?” At the exact same time, Grace and I say, “The Hyltons!” That would be a pretty fun year.
Know also that wisdom is sweet to your soul; if you find it, there is a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off. Proverbs 24:14
This verse, which I prayed over this morning, implies that there is some connection between having wisdom and having hope. If you find wisdom, you will have hope. It's not even if you "have" wisdom--you have to find it; you have to look for it, seek it, pursue it, chase after it. This makes me consider that I give up my pursuit of wisdom too quickly. The last phrase especially intrigues me: "and your hope will not be cut off." What does that even mean? But if I don't have wisdom, my hope will be truncated? I have nothing profound to say about this verse; just a lot of questions. (What's new...)
The shiny black crows are screaming and fighting over the pecans in the backyard.
Coming back to school tomorrow... (I kind of don't want to.)