A Small Mercy Before Dawn

Good morning. I’m a little late posting today. To be honest, I was a bit stumped about what to write for the blog. Today marks my 217th consecutive day of posting, and while plenty of ideas were running through my head, I simply couldn’t turn them into sentences, let alone sentences that might become paragraphs.

I remember that as I approached my 180th consecutive day, I seriously considered pitching the whole thing, at least taking a break from writing for a while.

I got home Saturday after spending a week with my mom in East Texas celebrating her 88th birthday. Terri is knee-deep in tax season, and she thought it would be good for me to go spend some time with my mom. Since Terri’s sister passed away in 2024, we’ve both been more intentional about spending time with our living parents—her folks and my mom. We know there are no guarantees that any of us will see tomorrow.

Somewhere along the way, after getting unpacked and settled in, I realized I hadn’t seen one of our cats since I got home.

The boys—Smoke, Boss, and Rice—had each taken turns spending time in or near my lap (which is saying something, since Smoke can be very touch-averse). Cali, our matriarch, had sweet-talked me into giving her treats more than once. It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t seen Tabitha.

Tabitha is the smallest of the crew and the quietest. It’s not unusual for her to be tucked away in one of her favorite spots, away from all the action and activity. Still, when I mentioned it to Terri, we began retracing the steps of her day and searching through the house wondering where Tabitha was hiding. Surely, she was hiding, right?

Then, after our search of our house availed nothing, we wondered if she had slipped out into the garage earlier with her brother Rice and gotten spooked when Terri opened the garage door to welcome me home. We checked the garage.

No Tabitha.

Then the worry really set in. What if she had been in the garage, got frightened, and ran outside?

I walked the neighborhood Sunday morning while Terri continued searching inside the house. Nothing. No signs of Tabitha.

We began wondering what we should do to get her back home. Another possibility crept into our minds too—that maybe she had tucked herself into some quiet corner of the house and passed away. We’ve experienced that before with one of our previous cats, Mollie.

It felt like grief might be knocking on our door again, and I wasn’t ready for that. I’m certain Terri wasn’t either.

As dusk approached, we went out searching again. That’s what the “internet experts” suggested we do. A cold front had blown in, and it felt about twenty degrees colder than the 51 degrees my phone insisted it was.

While we were out, we finally met our neighbor to the east. Terri’s parents live next door to us on the west, but the house to the east had been a mystery. Although the young man—Ben—told us he and his wife, Than, had moved in last summer, we had never actually seen anyone there and had started to suspect the place had been bought by a corporation waiting to flip it.

Ben turned out to be a friendly guy. During our conversation we learned they are expecting a baby boy sometime this week. We also discovered they have two cats of their own.

After chatting for a bit, we continued our search.

Still no Tabitha.

Sunday came and went. I knew I needed to write a post, but I simply didn’t have the words in me.

That evening we watched a few episodes of Scarpetta, a new crime drama on Amazon. Terri went to bed first. I followed about half an hour later without writing or scheduling a post. Mind you, I have plenty of content sitting in my draft folder. But posting any of it felt insincere and out of sync. I couldn’t pretend everything was fine and publish something about Lent.

I fell asleep quickly but woke suddenly around 3:00 a.m. My old-man bladder was reminding me that fluids after 8:00 p.m. are not a good idea.

As I lay there in the dark, I prayed for Tabitha and that wherever she was, God would keep her safe and somehow bring her home to us sooner rather than later.

After a trip to the bathroom, I tossed and turned for about an hour before finally conceding defeat. I don’t know about you, but once my mind wakes up, it usually refuses to go back to sleep.

So I got up.

I figured I’d get the the trash ready to take out, make a cup of coffee, and see if I could pound out a post. I grabbed the three empty water bottles from the sink and headed to the garage to toss them in the recycling bin. I double-checked that the alarm was off and opened the door to the garage.

And there she was.

Tabitha!

She was sitting there looking up at me.

As she scurried into the house, I called out to Terri to let her know that our little girl was home, alive and well.

And that’s how my Monday started.

How about yours?

²² The faithful love of the Lord never ends!
    His mercies never cease.
²³ Great is his faithfulness;
    his mercies begin afresh each morning.

Lamentations 3:23-24 NLT

Until my next post…

Be salty, stay lit.

Rainer Bantau —The Devotional Guy™

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