We pulled into the driveway and oohed and aahed at the fluffy grey kittens that scampered out of the way. Both my kids jumped out to try to catch one - which was about as likely as catching a squirrel bare-handed.

We went inside and I started dinner.

(This phrase probably sounds very mundane - but the fact of the matter is - cooking dinner every night is the absolute bane of my existence. Or rather, it would be if I actually cooked dinner every night. The fact that I was preparing food purchased raw and/or frozen at the grocery store is something for me to be proud of. I know this doesn't do much for my Proverbs 31 Woman image - but we might as well start off on the right foot. No pretense.)

After just a few minutes - I heard Matthew holler "Look, Mama - a lost dog!" This phrase holds great promise for my kids in their eternal quest to add another animal to the menagerie that they proudly call "theirs".  When in fact, they are MINE. I have tried in vain to relenquish the animal ownership here in Pizza Hut Heights. However - every living thing within these walls is apparently instinctively drawn to me as the Mama. Child, canine, and feline. This should make me feel very honored - but since I can't even cook dinner on a consistent basis - I find it pitiful that these creatures are desperate enough to look to me.

I followed Matthew down the stairs, reassuring him that the dog was just out for a walk and was not lost at all. Grace followed (no doubt after checking her hair, mascara, and lip gloss and also snapping an Instagram photo so she could properly document the potential procurement of her new pet). We smiled over at a huge Dalmation, who was alternating between leaping ecstatically, ruffing a playful bark, and gleefully tossing a fluffy grey sock up into the........ Oh. Dear. God. NO!!!!!

I heard the kitten screaming at the same moment Matthew realized what was happening. I grabbed him and wheeled away from the sight that I could not even comprehend was happening just a few feet away. Matthew shrieked and sobbed as he choked on the vomit in his mouth. 

(I feel like I should stop and let you all know that although this is a very graphic beginning to a blog - I promise you this is definitely a departure from my normal writing style. In fact - this is my first recorded account of watching a small animal be eaten alive. The fact that this event occurred the very day I actually agreed with the Lord that I would start a blog just serves as a divinely appointed exciting start.

Or not.

Anyway, the fact that a cat dies in this story will be a hilarious irony to some of my oldest friends who remember the "summer of the cat graveyard at the BSU". I have no aspiration to be a Stephen King-type writer. If you have begged me to write, as many of you have - just bear with me. I promise there will be a point.

Maybe.)

I herded the kids up the stairs and into the house while bellowing for them to shut the door and NOT LOOK OUT AND DON'T YOU DARE DISOBEY ME OR I'LL BEAT BOTH OF YOU WHEN THIS IS ALL OVER. ("Above all, put on love", Sandy. Good job. Not.) I turned back to the Dalmation - who was looking at me with all the charm of a sixth grade boy who has just found something cool to show his buddy. Except I wasn't his buddy and I did not want to see the sight that my driveway had become. I screamed some tearful incoherent reprimand, and he loped off - tail wagging. 

The kitten took up a space in the driveway that was about three feet long by six inches wide. An impossibly long, skinny rectangle of carnage. I had grabbed my phone instinctively as I ran out the door, and now dialed Daddy's number. No answer. I turned away from the pitiful sight. This had to be cleaned up, and I knew I just couldn't do it. I dialed my friend to see if her husband could help me. As the phone started ringing - I glanced back in time to see the kitten crawling away - kind of. I will not describe this. Only tell you that I am glad my friend did not answer. The sound of me projectile vomiting is something I'd rather keep confidential.

At this moment - one of my finest, for sure - my neighbor drove up. He nearly died on the spot, probably certain he had come across a stabbing scene. Once he realized the carnage was a cat's and the vomit was mine - his caretaker persona took over.

"Jest git in that house. Keep them precious chirren inside away from them windows. Dear Gawd!! Oooooh - the poor little thing. Bless it's heart. I'm 'fraid I'ma have ta destroy it."

I refrained from pointing out that it was pretty much already a goner....just went on in the house to comfort my hysterical children. Matthew - hysterical because he had seen something incredibly traumatic for an almost nine-year-old to witness. Grace - hysterical simply because hysteria was in the air - and, being freshly thirteen - hysteria is her current specialty. I later found out that she hadn't actually seen much of what happened.

(Although seeing Matthew's agony over the situation was almost the worst thing about the whole thing - and she WAS holding down the fort in the kitchen comforting him while I was outside throwing up and bonding with the neighbor.)

Ten minutes later Matthew and I were pulling out of the driveway to go to Ruston Elementary Open House. Our neighbor was washing down the pavement with the water hose. (Yes, he gets a cake soon. Oh wait - maybe cake balls from House of Flowers. They come already cooked. In a box with a cute bow. Much better.) The twenty minutes of horror tore through the center of our ordinary day, dividing it into "before" and "after". Our hearts still pounded, and we all still had the slightly nauseated feeling you get after seeing something you wish you could erase.

But life doesn't erase. No rewinds. No do-overs, really. Oh - I know, I know - everybody gets another chance. The Lord is merciful. He can restore even horrible things. But they don't erase.

Yucky things - like seeing a horrible "act of nature" (as one of my colleagues called the kitten slaying. Hmm...creative.) Disappointing things - that make your stomach sink every time you revisit  "what might have been" in your thoughts. Terrifying things - the stiff smile of a physician as he enters the room with news you don't want to hear. Sorrowful things - the news that a friend has lost his mate through horrible circumstances. The shock and fear are physical. You can taste them in the back of your throat. The emotions linger and are brought to the surface at unexpected moments. Life doesn't erase. Until...

Matthew asked me at bedtime if we could pray for the dead kitten. Not pray ABOUT it - I tried that diversion. Pray FOR it. An interesting theological end to my day. I missed the seminary class for this. "Emotional Support For Children Who See Stephen King Novels Acted Out Before Their Very Eyes In The Driveway". I just couldn't refuse his tearful request to pray. And out of my desire to comfort my little boy - I found comfort in talking to my Father.

"If you see a sparrow that falls, Lord -we know you saw the kitten that...umm...fell. I know you are in control of everything that happens. Help us to turn to you when we don't understand. When we are afraid. When we've seen and heard things that we didn't want to. (Enter tears. Slow...hot...tears of a child. A forty-seven year old child who is the Mama to children who have seen and experienced more in their short lives than she has in all of hers.) We know that You promised to make a new heaven and a new earth - and we look forward to that with all our hearts..."

I don't remember how I ended it all. But I DO know how my precious Lord will end it all.

"No more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever."

Erased.

And the lights went out on another day here in Pizza Hut Heights.