In August of 2024, I was emotionally adrift. 2023 was a year of loss. Death had taken four souls from my life that were primary cornerstones to my emotional make up. Four beings who were some of the builders of my everyday existence. In the nine months between March and November, my world shook with each casualty. My one goal going into 2024 was to just stay upright.

But that wasn’t meant to be, literally or figuratively. In February of 2024 I sustained a workplace accident that literally threw me on the ground. Hospitalized for a week, then I was restricted to only physical movement with the aid of a walker or rolling chair. Traversing the path to the outside world from my bedroom required an ability I didn’t possess. I was home bound and confined to simplest of activities. My core, the essence of my physical, emotional, and spiritual self had been broken.

Months later I was finally able to maneuver myself into the bright sunshine of my backyard. The summertime southern exposure provided me with many hours to heal in the sunlight of awareness of my new normal. The losses of 2023 had given me a new sense of freedom to explore the unfastened parts of my heart while the accident of 2024 forced me to redefine my somatic self.

As fall approached I was still tending to the paths of my broken heart and body. Everyday I awakened to the fact that I was not who I used to be. I recognized the specific points of change and worked to erase the pain but hold on to the meaning. With every awakening, I requested that the universe turn my life in the direction of wholeness and renewed perspective. Life had taught me that there are always going to be signs toward growth, a simple willingness to see them was all it took to follow ones self.

In late August I noticed an unfamiliar cat hanging out in the far corner of my backyard. I had been feeding a couple of neighborhood cats back there, but this one was definitely not one of them. A day or so later, I saw the cat sleeping in my shed. She was very pregnant. I made sure to leave plenty of food out for her and the others.

The next morning she came out of the shed to greet me. To say thank you, I guess. Then an amazing thing happened. She rubbed her body against my legs. I don’t know a lot about cats, but I do know what that meant. I began to sit with her while she ate to make she was getting as much food as she wanted. My days were devoid of intent or structure since I was still unable to do the job I was hired to do through no fault of my own.

The cat responded to my offer of care with signs of her own. She began to let me pet her while she ate, laid down in front of me and fell asleep on the shed floor while I sat with her. She seemed very content with our arrangement. But her growing belly with discernible movement was becoming worrisome for me. The birth of however many babies was going to be soon and she was basically living outdoors. The friends who knew and understood cats stressed upon me the importance of getting her inside for her safety and that of the babies.

I had a secure area in my garage that was easily accessible, but would also be a safe space for her to give birth and care for the newborns. She could just walk in if she chose. I made it as welcoming as I could. Food, water, shelter, and isolation.

She moved in two days before the birth of her 7 babies. Two boys and five girls. She was a caring and careful mom, not letting me get too close, but still accepting of the care I offered. After a week, they were all moved into the spare bedroom of my house.

The universe had put me in a position to be able to focus on the care this little family needed to survive and thrive. As I watched them grow, I was able to give the things they helped to make a kitten into healthy and happy cat. I had asked the universe to guide me toward a new sense of purpose. A place to find true healing. A path on which to set my steps toward a goal of wholeness.

And, as always, the universe provides.