Devotionals for the Heart: Grief

God of My Closet Floor
A devotional by Cyndi Staudt

“I can never escape from your Spirit! I can never get away from your presence! If I go up to heaven, you are there; if I go down to the grave, you are there.” 

– Psalm 139:7-8 (NLT)

As ribbons of light peeked their way through the blinds, I was instantly aware something was amiss. The familiar fur head piece that typically wove itself around my head was missing. My Harley had never made his way onto my pillow the night before which was quite unusual for him. As my feet found the floor, he wandered his way into the bedroom.

Taking his customary post on the bathroom floor he waited patiently for me to complete my morning dental routine before heading to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast. When the next morning revealed the same odd behavior change, I made a note on my calendar and scheduled a vet visit for a few days later. Little did I know that three weeks, two ER visits and two oncology visits later my faithful feline friend would be gone.

Psalms 36:6 affirms that God cares for people and animals alike. So, I admit without reservation that the sadness and heart break I have experienced since Harley died has been like no other. It has brought me to my knees in moments of weeping where I have asked God why He didn’t just take me too. At times I have felt that I might be swallowed by the grief that consumes me. My shattered heart seems beyond repair. But God.

The Bible tells us God is everywhere but sometimes it feels like He is nowhere. It’s in those moments where we have to walk by faith and stand on the promises God has made in His Word. Promises to never leave us or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5). Promises to be near to the broken-hearted (Psalms 34:18). Promises to collect all my tears in a bottle (Psalms 56:8). And the promise that one day God will wipe away all the tears from our eyes, and there will be no more death, no more sorrow, no more crying, and no more pain (Revelation 21:4). Our feelings deceive us, but our God never does. Our feelings may fail us, But God never will. Our faith may falter but God is forever faithful.

It’s easy to feel God’s presence when serving on the mission field or in the midst of a worship night at church. When we are experiencing Holy Spirit highs or basking in God’s blessings His nearness is almost palpable. But He is no farther away and no less God when our world seems to be crumbling around us. When we receive a cancer diagnosis, need a job, our marriage falls apart or we lose a loved one, He is still nearby and sitting on His throne in complete control.

I spent time on my closet floor this morning remembering my final moments with Harley and you know what I discovered? The God of the mountain tops and mission trips is also the God of my closet floor. The God of joy in the morning is also the God of weeping in the night. The God of peace that surpasses all understanding is also the God of profound pain. The God of hope is also the God of the hurting. The God of blessing to overflow is also the God of the broken-hearted. Our house feels like a Grand Canyon of emptiness that only the fullness of God can fill.

My heart harbors a God-sized gap that only He can satisfy. Deep grief is the price of great love.

And He is the God of them both.

Let’s Pray: Gracious Father, when the trials and pressures of this world seem too much to bear, help us remember to draw near to You because when we do, You promise You will draw near to us. You have assured us we will have trouble in this world, but also remind us to have faith because You have overcome the world. In our darkest moments, You are the Light of the world. When we pass through the waters, you promise to be with us. When we go through rivers, you ensure they will not overwhelm us. When we walk through the fire you guarantee we will not be burned and the flames will not consume us. We never have to go searching for You, because You are always near. Even when we don’t see it, feel it, or believe it, You are working and moving on our behalf. You are for us and not against us and are forever on Your throne. Help us to not just read these promises in Your Word but believe them to be truth in our lives. In the mighty name of Jesus I pray. Amen.

*Note from Alexis: Cyndi’s devotional message reminds me of the song “Beauty for Ashes” by Crystal Lewis. Listen to it here.

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Author Bio:

Cyndi Staudt is a Jesus-loving, adrenaline junkie who is devoted to living her life for Jesus Christ until the day she is living with Him. 

With a passion for cultivating a craving for God’s Word, her devotions and Bible studies are saturated with faith and hope to stir your soul to connect with God in deeper, more intimate ways.

Through her writing she hopes to ignite your desire to read God’s Word, invite your heart to experience God’s love, and inspire you to live your live life “souled out” to the One whose love has no limits.

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Connect with Cyndi:
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/souledoutcyndi/

Devotionals for the Heart: Lessons on learning how to love again from a cat

Learning to love again
A devotional by Jessica Brodie

I had my cat, Teetee, longer than my kids had been alive. When she passed away in March at age 16, my oldest child was 14. They’d never known a time without her in their lives, and she’d been like a second mama to them.

Teetee died the week before we went into COVID-19 lockdown, so her death hit us hard—really, really hard. And she died at home in her sleep, too, so all that abundant at-home time was extra rough. All those little nooks in the house, all her favorite sun-dozing places, felt so empty without her.

She wasn’t my first pet to die. I lost my tabby Roxanne to cancer when she was 10, and my ever-reticent tortoiseshell Tasmin, age 13, left to die on her own two years later. But it was Teetee’s death that left me reeling. She’d been with me through two pregnancies, the wild and wacky world of toddlers, hours-long baby colic, three moves, a period as a single mom, and now our present reality as a blended stepfamily. I felt like I lost a massive chunk of my heart when she died. We buried her in our backyard, and I visited with flowers and teared up regularly.

A couple weeks after Teetee died, my youngest started in with the questions. “When can we get a new cat, Mom? Can we get two? How about three?”

A month later, two of the kids put together a slideshow demonstrating their plan to feed, care for, and even pay for said new cat. Guilt trips and crying jags began the next week, and by Month Three it was a daily topic of conversation.

My husband doesn’t really like cats (though he did love Teetee), so he wasn’t exactly eager. And I wasn’t ready for another cat. I was still grieving my girl! But whether it was the kids’ nagging or the passage of time, one day I woke up craving another pet. Finally, in July, we adopted a 6-week-old kitten from some friends. We named her Princess Leia. 

Oh, my goodness. That sweet, precious girl! While Leia can never, ever replace Teetee, she has been such a balm to my heart. It has been a beautiful thing to watch her grow, to help her learn basic things like eat dry cat food and remember how to find her litter box, to comfort her when she cried at night, to see her discover so many wonderful places in our home (the staircase! The window! The top of my curtain rod!).

And the kids have been so cute with her. They have all been so tender and loving, patient and kind. She takes turns traveling laps during family movie nights, and while I’ve had to lock her out of my room a few times during yoga and bandage more than a few arms or legs when Leia got carried away learning to be a ferocious wannabe tiger, she has been such a blessing to us all.

The other day I looked down at her, my heart flooding with emotion, and planted a smooch right on her forehead. “Teetee would have just loved you, Leia,” I exclaimed as she purred and stretched beneath my gentle petting.

It’s not always easy to love again when we have lost someone we loved, whether that’s a pet or a person. But as we are God’s people, fully created in love, I believe we have an obligation to open our hearts to love, whatever that looks like. It’s not always the same, and we don’t always feel perfectly ready. But love—whatever that looks like.

As the apostle Paul wrote in Colossians 3:12-14 (NIV), “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity."

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Author Bio:

Jessica Brodie is an award-winning Christian novelist, journalist, editor, blogger, and writing coach and the recipient of the 2018 American Christian Fiction Writers Genesis Award for her novel, The Memory Garden.

She is also the editor of the South Carolina United Methodist Advocate, the oldest newspaper in Methodism. Learn more about her fiction and read her faith blog at http://jessicabrodie.com. She has a weekly YouTube devotional, too.

You can also connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, and more. She’s also produced a free eBook, A God-Centered Life: 10 Faith-Based Practices When You’re Feeling Anxious, Grumpy, or Stressed.

Devotionals for the Heart: God's love that was shown through a family cat

What our family cat taught us about God’s unconditional love
A devotional by Jessica Brodie

“You were my second mommy, the sweetest girl ever, and I miss you so much.”

The words, scrawled by my daughter in a tear-stained letter to our late cat, Teetee, broke my heart.

We lost our kitty-daughter, Teetee, a couple of weeks ago after her short battle with cancer. She was old—almost 17—and her passing was relatively quick and in the night at our home, a blessing for which I am grateful.

Still, our home is not the same. I still imagine her in the shadows, out of the corner of my eye as I walk from the bedroom to the kitchen… still envision her lazing happily in her favorite sunshine spot, still expect her to come prowling when I get out the cheddar cheese—her favorite snack—for breakfast.

Teetee was the absolute best cat ever—not a pet, in truth, but the Real Mom of the House. The kids might call me “Mom,” but Teetee and I knew she was really the one in charge of everyone’s welfare. After all, she was the one who knew when someone was sick, often even before we did. She’d sense the illness and come to sit by us, try her best to sleep on our head, even, if we’d let her.

If someone was sad, or worried, she’d scooch close and snuggle in, like she could somehow send her “everything will be fine” state of mind directly into us.

And she’d been with us through so much!

I found Teetee at the adoption center of a pet store back in 2003, shortly after my kitty Roxanne passed away. I was brokenhearted back then and certain I wasn’t ready for a cat for a long, long time … and then I happened by Teetee, a tiny calico relaxing among the other, more antsy felines. I couldn’t resist asking to hold her, and she came to me willingly, sniffed at me curiously, turned in a circle in my arms, and promptly fell asleep. (In other words: She picked me.)

Teetee sat with me as I sobbed during a long period of infertility; it felt like she was saying, “I understand. I can’t have babies either. Everything will be fine.”

Then, after my “miracle son” was born two years later, she’d watch me nurse, change diapers, and rock my little one long into the wee hours. We’d exchange knowing looks, Teetee and I—“We’ve got this,” we’d think at each other.

Two years and another baby, a daughter, later, and Teetee and I had settled into a pattern. She’d watch them carefully, look at me mournfully when one was wailing or tugging at her tail. We’d commiserate, mom to mom; the toddler phase was tough! She’d let them do most anything to her, too, tolerating my son’s heavy pats and allowing him to lug her here and there. She’d let my daughter dress her up with princess cloaks and baby blankets and push her around in a baby stroller.

She was with me again as I’d despair on lonely nights, through an out-of-state move, through the dissolution of my marriage and a period as a single mom, through times when I’d wonder how we’d all eat or get through. “Everything will be fine,” she’d tell me in her kitty way. Of course, she was right.

When Matt and I fell in love and planned to marry, and he came over one night to watch a movie, she claimed him as part of the family, too. She leapt onto the couch, bypassed me, and settled right down on his belly, placing one paw delicately on his chest. “You’re in,” she was saying.

As the kids went from toddler to elementary-age and now young teens, she handled their mood swings far better than I, cuddling with my daughter when my daughter would get furious with me over some perceived slight, calming her with her kitty “everything’s fine” vibe.

Now, all these years later, she’s gone, and the house feels so empty without her. I miss her cuddles and purrs, the way she’d meow “helllloooo” in the early mornings trying to wake us up, her peaceful basks in sunny spots, even her cat hair that covered every surface like putty.

She loved us fiercely. And we loved her.

Looking back, I see the love of Jesus Christ shining throughout her whole life… the way she was always there in our toughest moments; the way she never, ever left us even when we wailed or acted sassy; the way she kept us focused on the after, letting us know everything would be fine. Now I realize what she was saying: Relax. God has you, sweet angst-filled human. Don’t fuss or fear.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid” (John 14:27 NIV).

Rest in peace, sweet Teetee. Thank you for your love, for always being there in the toughest moments, and for showing us the unconditional love of Jesus in the way you loved us.

~*~
Author Bio:

Jessica Brodie is an award-winning Christian novelist, journalist, editor, blogger, and writing coach and the recipient of the 2018 American Christian Fiction Writers Genesis Award for her novel, The Memory Garden.

She is also the editor of the South Carolina United Methodist Advocate, the oldest newspaper in Methodism, and a member of the Wholly Loved Ministries team.

Learn more about her fiction and read her faith blog at http://jessicabrodie.com.