Faith Over Fear
About six weeks ago, we adopted two kittens. They are male. Including the boys, their dad, and the two dogs, there are now seven males in the house. I’m outnumbered. And I don’t mind.
I think I was meant to be a boy mom. Managing male energy is second nature to me. And I find now that leaning into my divine feminine faith has taught me that not everything is mine to manage.
The week before, our eleven year old had been saying that he missed having a cat. We had adopted one about eighteen months before, and he had been skittish. The day we went to Petsmart to pick him out, he hissed at us in the cage, on the car ride home, and through the cushions of the couch that he hid behind. When he came out, the dogs chased him, and he eventually left out of the dog door to roam. One day he stopped coming home. I’d had an unsettled feeling the moment we picked him out, but my son insisted that was the one he wanted. I didn’t want to go through that again, but I knew a cat would help the boys heal as we transition to two homes.
Two hours after my son said he missed having a cat, my friend posted to Facebook that she had rescued three kittens from a parking lot and taken them home. I knew instantly at least one of those was meant to be ours, and maybe two. I mentioned it to the boys. Their dad heard me and started screaming “NO! NO! NO! NO! We can’t have another cat! The dogs will torment it!” He was angry. It was Father's Day weekend, and he said that he refused to participate in Father’s Day. He was mad that I had gone behind his back to the boys. I apologized for that, but told him that he was moving out soon, and it really wasn’t his call to make. “Besides,” I said, “it’s going to work out. I can feel it.”
We ended up celebrating Father’s Day anyway. We had made plans to eat at our favorite seaside restaurant and invited my mom. The boys didn’t want to miss out, so we went without him.
A week later, we got the kittens. They were tiny, and still had their blue eyes. When we got to my friend’s house, the orange tabby male went up to our eleven year old, and the gray tabby went up to our five year old. Looking at the gray tabby, the name “Miles” popped into my head, and I said “His name is Miles.” I told my son he didn’t have to use that name. “No! I like it Mom!” And then our five year old said “I want to name this one Roar.” “Oh,” I said, “Like Rory.” “Yes,” my son said. “His name is Rory!” And that was it. The third, a female, went to my friend’s best friend. We closed the dog door permanently and poured into the kitties, making sure to spend time playing with them, holding them, and training the dogs not to chase them.
The other day I snapped this photo of Miles and Max, our golden doodle. I realized that I had known all along it was going to work out. In the same way that when the oncologist told me that I had stage four cancer, I knew I didn’t while their dad was telling people I could live for a while with aggressive chemo. A week later, my colorectal surgeon assured me that I was right and went to the board to argue for me to be treated. It turned out the oncologist, who was fairly new, didn't know how to read a PET scan. In the same way I knew I had to walk away from chemo and radiation when their dad was terrified I was making a mistake. But I knew I had healed enough that transitioning to naturopathic treatment would give me my cure, while completing treatment would leave me permanently disabled. In the same way that I knew he had to go, while he clung to a marriage that had clearly passed its expiration date. In the same way that I know everything is going to be okay when he moves out, in fact, better because the physical boundary of two homes is exactly what our family needs to feel safe emotionally.
I have faith. I can literally feel the outcome in my body. And it’s in our favor. I wish their dad trusted me more. But I know, after almost two decades together, that his decisions have always been based on fear. The ego does not like change. The more I mature and the more I overcome, the more mine have been based on faith and an unshakable connection to consciousness: I feel it in my body, my brain and my bones, and it’s in my blood. My ancient ancestors read the signs. I read the signs, I feel into my body, and I trust myself to make the right decisions. Even when others don’t. Just like I always knew I’d have a second son. The boys love their kittens. Just as I thought, their purrs are healing. And the dogs get along with them just fine.
