Ginger before her great adventure A few years ago I had an experience that felt like the power of prayer. I had just moved back to Vancouver. It was summer, and I kept the litter box on the balcony of my third floor apartment for my two cats while we were settling in. But Ginger was curious and sometimes tried to jump to the rooftop patio of the suite above us. I deterred her as best I could, but one day I noticed a distinct absence. Blackie was nosing up to me, but Ginger had been silent for hours. I had been working on the computer on a day when the heat rose to about 30° C (86° F). My apartment had tall windows facing east, south, and west, where the heat intensified even with the windows open. Ginger was nowhere I expected. I worried and with the heat exhaustion I got sick. I cooled myself as best I could. The second day she was missing, I put up posters with a photo. I did everything I could think of, and when I couldn’t think of anything more, I prayed. Actually I prayed early on too. As I walked down the block with posters in hand, I saw someone looking in my direction. I walked towards her. She asked, “Are you here for the prayer meeting?” I hadn’t known about a prayer meeting, but it was timely, and I accepted the invitation. There were just three of us. We went into the small chapel at the back of Ryerson United Church, a beautiful stone structure across the street from my apartment. When I first saw my apartment, a beautiful bride and groom were having photographs taken in front of the church. Couples would travel from Japan for their Canadian wedding. I hoped it was a good omen for me. I didn’t have a wedding, but enjoyed hearing the church bells and beautiful organ music from my apartment. For a while I even sang in their marvellous choir. We three women linked hands and prayed for those asking for prayer and for our own concerns. I told them about Ginger. As I prayed, for the first time, I released her to wherever she might be. I asked that she would be well, and if she had found another family, that she would be treated well there. I got a call from someone who saw my poster. They said that a cat matching her appearance had been run over by a car a few blocks away. I had asked for good or bad news, and this was bad. The SPCA had already picked up the cat. I called the shelter, which was closed. As I was leaving a message, someone heard me and picked up. He agreed to let me see the cat despite the late hour. I took a box of tissues with me for the drive across town to the shelter. I thought, finally Ginger’s adventurous nature has caught up with her. When I rang the buzzer and the employee let me in, he brought me to the cold room where he had the body of a cat. It was a calico, but not Ginger. “That’s good!” he said. “She might still be out there!” I had expected closure, and had such faint hope of her return to a third floor apartment in a new area unfamiliar to her. The second night that she was away, the night after the prayer meeting, I was awoken at 2 a.m. to the sound of a cat fight. I didn’t feel hopeful but I needed to try. I went to the balcony that faced the alley, and called for Ginger. The fight had stilled and I saw the movement of a cat far down the alley. As I continued to call, suddenly I saw the mottled markings that matched my calico. She was sitting atop the concrete wall that bordered our parking garage. The sight was so unexpected, it felt like I was seeing a ghost. I ran down the stairs in my robe and slippers, and scooped up my kitty. There was a spot of black grease on her fur that smelled like motor oil. She had probably hidden under a vehicle. She needed more rest than usual, but was otherwise unmarked from her fall and her adventure on the streets of Vancouver. I had no doubt that my kitty’s return that night was an answer to prayer. I later learned that calling at night is a great strategy for finding lost cats, who are too scared to venture out during the day. I've been encouraged by reading stories in John Murray's book, Miracles: Coincidence or Divine Intervention?, and thought that others might be encouraged to hear one of my own stories. My father has also had amazing experiences that I am in the process of recording. Rationalists might offer a different explanation, but it's a narrow and limited perspective only to accept material things that we can see and touch. We know there is a thing called love, but it isn’t material. Prayer is when you reach out to that higher power that is love personified. It’s there for the taking. - Irene Plett TOPICS: cats, prayer, inspiration, finding lost cats, Ryerson United Church, Vancouver, John Murray
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WriterIrene Plett is a writer, poet and animal lover living in South Surrey, British Columbia, Canada. Categories
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