Tomorrow morning I’ll sit in the chair looking out over the trees on the street below my bedroom window and think how I used to balance my books on its arms as I read and wrote because our cat would lay in my lap—stretched out, paws crossed, eyes closed and purring to the quiet sound of my prayers.
Rose is a stinker, feisty and free, able to outsmart the den of foxes that used to live next door. Undaunted by them, she’d lie sleekly across the sidewalk, flaunting her bravery. Bunnies, birds and mice her prey, without front claws she’d scale a tree if necessary.
But she didn’t come home this week. She may have been outsmarted. I’m sure she put up a fight and if she went down it was on her own terms—free to roam, to explore, experience life’s beauty. It’s interesting that she chose this week to depart—the same time of year as my mom and brother. I’m conscious of my heart, its size, its weight. Our pets come in and go out like our accomplishments—a gift so present one day and suddenly gone the next.
Love your pets. Enjoy your accomplishments when they’re there. I’m working hard to replace the hole in my heart. We’ll be looking at a couple cats this week that need a home.
I know this doesn’t sound related but stay with me. I’ve spent a couple years trying to preserve and document Dad’s life and accomplishments as a way to hold on to him if the time came when he, like Rose, would not be knocking, (or mewing) at the back door. And just when I thought we’d finished those stories, we were outsmarted, so to speak.
We were on Washington Island together recently when he told me this:
“Well, after fifty-five years as an architect, I’ve done some reflection. When I graduated from college I thought I would design worship spaces that would help bring people to Jesus. St. Edmund’s congregation has moved on and the building is for sale. The Chrystal Cathedral in California, perhaps the grandest scale of church architecture stands empty and is also for sale. Whereas, there are church ministries worshiping in remodeled warehouses all over, and are very effective. The conclusion I’ve reached therefore is, it’s not about architecture. So what does that mean? My life as a church architect was a waste?
“My journey as an architect taught me a lot and gave me many opportunities to witness for the Lord. But did the spaces I create accomplish this? No. I believe the answer is no because that which I pursued could never be attained. And yet perhaps, there were aspects of that journey that were beneficial to the purpose I pursued. In the end, I realized that it can never be architecture that draws people to Jesus, it’s only the Word.”
I was moved. I thought that was the end of the story. Then I got a call from Scott Sprout. He oversees missions at Crimson Way which is the new church, he said, inside the old St. Edmond’s which was just recently sold. Scott didn’t know the architect was still living but found out he was when he came across Sundays with Dad. It looks like St. Edmond’s will once again be filled with music, and children and worship and, most importantly, the Word. You can imagine Dad’s joy when he heard.
They invited Dad to come and share the story of his design at the service tomorrow. If you’re free, stop by at 10:30, 14625 Watertown Plank Road, Elm Grove. We’d love to see you.
So, just when I thought it was the end, I discovered it was only another new beginning.
God bless you Rosie.