For the Love of a Piggy

My precious baby Mocha passed away on Wednesday. Over the last few weeks, he struggled with two upper respiratory infections. But the worst news was when we found out he had a stone in each ureter and needed emergency surgery. We left him with our vet on Tuesday, with his surgery scheduled for Wednesday. Tuesday night, at almost midnight, we made a 20 minute trek to the vet office to visit him and to bring him his most cherished possession, his cuddle cup. The cuddle cup is about 3 years old, so worn and ragged from several washings, but he absolutely loves it. We spent about half an hour with him, taking turns holding him, feeding him blueberries (his favorite treat), singing to him (he always looked at me and purred when I sang the song from Dumbo, "Baby Mine," to him), telling him what a good piggy he was and how much we loved him. He purred away in contentment as we rubbed him and held him close. We asked the vet if it was ok if he had his cuddle cup with him so he had something familiar with him and she said it was fine. As I was preparing to give him back, I held him close and breathed in his scent several times. I felt at the moment that it was so important for me to just breathe him in. I looked at him and said "precious, you smell like Mocha." He purred, I told him I loved him...and that was the last time I saw him.

Wednesday afternoon around 1pm, our vet called and said he made it out of surgery, but that one of the stones went back into his kidney so she'd need to go back in for it in another day or two, but he was resting well in the mean time. Three hours after that, she called again...the first words out of her mouth were, "I'm sorry." She explained that his intestines started to bloat and they couldn't stop it...and finally he "went to sleep" as she delicately told me. She kept apologizing and through my sobs, I told her how much we appreciated that she did all that she could for him. The drive to pick up his little body was painfully long, but it was even worse when we got there and they handed me a little box with his name and a heart drawn on it. I also got back his cuddle cup. When we got home, I opened the box, took off the towel he had been wrapped in, held him close, and just cried. I think even the other piggies knew something was wrong as they all were incredibly subdued...and still remain so, Eggnog in particular.

Piggies can live anywhere from 5-10 years. Mocha would have turned 3 in June.

We've lost three piggies. One died in my arms, one died due to the fault of a former vet, and now Mocha. With each, we wrapped them in a shirt of mine so they'd forever be wrapped in Mama's arms. We also put in clippings from the other piggies' fur, as well as little things they loved. Mocha will be no different. And as much as I want to hang on to his cuddle cup, he deserves to have it with him. Some people can't imagine why I would do this. After all, I've been told, it's just a guinea pig. Why do I do it? Because I loved him. I adored him. He trusted me. He was not a disposable pet to toss to the side when things went downhill. He was a creation of God, entrusted to my care...and he deserved to be cared for. Mocha was an incredibly affectionate piggy with such a sweet disposition...and anyone who "could care less" truly doesn't deserve his love.

I realize that the entire world is not as passionate about animals as I am, and some barely even care. I realize that not everyone cares about creation in general. I think what saddens me even more is when Christians are the ones who could care less. We are the ones who should be front and center when it comes to caring for God's creation. Instead, many Christians look at me and Wes and we're considered "moderate" or "liberal" because of our beliefs regarding conservation...and some have used the term "tree hugger." For the record, I have no problems being a tree hugger...I do have problems with people who use that term in a derogatory manner towards me. When Adam and Eve were created, the first command was to be fruitful and multiply. The second command was a charge regarding our rule over the earth. Why do so many Christians happily accept the first command while completely ignoring the second? They're both in the same verse. I'm not saying that everyone needs to be right where I am regarding my passion for the environment. It just makes me sad that the very people who are called to be stewards of the earth are the ones who look down upon those who actually take the job seriously.

For you Lord of the Rings fans out there...remember Denethor? He was called to be the Steward of Gondor. He was to take care of the kingdom until the king returned. And what happened? He let it get to his head...he stopped caring about his kingdom and refused to give up "his" throne for the return of the king. He declined into madness. We, as Christians, have been called to be stewards of this earth with God as our High King. This world is not our own...it's not ours to mess up. And yet, some stewards could care less about it. While we are anxiously awaiting the return of Christ, what kind of earth are we having Him return to? Have we seriously declined into madness like Denethor and refuse to give up our throne for the rightful King? Are we really proud of what we're offering to Him? Can we stand tall when asked "what did you do in your role as steward?" When we chase after animals to scare them, throw things at another animal for fun, care less about the plight of an animal in need...stop and think about just Who created that animal...and Who we are hurting when we take delight in their suffering.

Mocha, I love you...and I feel blessed that God gave you to us...even for a short time.

Photos by Mary King

Twenty Eight Years Old

Actor Heath Ledger died today. Technically yesterday, I suppose, since it's 1am here. It caught me off-guard really, which struck me as odd since I'm not exactly this huge fan of his. I liked him in A Knight's Tale and somewhat enjoyed Casanova...and only recently found out that the hideous picture of The Joker was actually him. And yet I couldn't turn away from news reports and I found myself sad over the news. Possibly because it's a name I know, possibly because I realize that as I get older, I'll recognize more and more names of people who die (when I was younger, I hardly knew any of the names), possibly because of the fact he's leaving behind an 18 month old little girl who will only know her daddy by his movies and interviews...but honestly, it wasn't until Wes said something that I realized why it struck me so much. Heath Ledger was 28 when he died. Why is it that his age is what got to me? And what comment did Wes make that made me realize why his age was the thing that made me sad? Wes said, "he was my age." Wes rarely has anything to say about celebrity deaths. The most he ever talked about one was Steve Irwin. Not that Wes went on about Heath Ledger...that was really all he said on it. I doubt he meant it to be as personal as it sounded, but it's quite something to hear of a person your age die...it makes you think about your own life. What if it were cut short this very instant?

My heart grieved for Ledger's former fiancee, Michelle Williams. I realize that they were no longer romantically linked, but she's still the mother of his child. She is 27 years old, the age I'll be in two and a half weeks. That makes her my age. I'm sure our similarities end there. But I couldn't imagine me, a near 27 year old, hearing about the death of my 28 year old husband...the man I share my life with. What would I do? I know the pat answers about being strong and moving on, blah blah blah. That's a lot easier to say than actually live through. I hated those answers when struggling to deal with the grief over my grandfather's death. But this would be my husband. I realize that he would be in heaven, but there is a real devastation over losing your spouse....the person you've become one with. It's no longer "one"...but tragedy struck and tore it in two. This is part of the reason why I've become so afraid of death.

What saddens me even more is the evidence that Mr. Ledger was not a Christian. We know how this story ends. And there is where the story differs between 28 year old Heath Ledger and 28 year old Wesley King. I thought to myself several times this afternoon and evening, "Heath knows the Truth now, whether or not someone shared it with him." It breaks my heart that there are people who only know the Truth upon death. Wes and I are blessed beyond belief to be saved by the grace of God. We absolutely don't deserve it. But for us there is hope, there is a peace we have...there is life for us. So if I were to receive word that my husband passed away, I know where he'd be. That wouldn't make life on earth without him any easier, but at least there is hope in the midst of devastation rather than a hopeless devastation. It boggles my mind that God would choose to save broken and poor Wes & Mary, rather than rich, famous, and influential Heath Ledger. And it's an eye opener too, because I sometimes sit here frustrated at how easy these celebrities have it...never needing to worry about money, not living paycheck to paycheck, not having to put off taking care of a medical concern because of finances, adoptions are expedited...it's enough to make me want to cry sometimes. But then something like this happens and I'm reminded that Wes and I have been given something far greater than any of that. Why us? Why did God choose to save and protect us? I don't know. But boy am I glad He did!!

Twenty eight years old. That's my husband's age. That's Wes. Life is so short.

If you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed and am going to snuggle up next to my husband. There just doesn't seem enough of a lifetime to do that.

Photo by Mary King (me)

What time is it?

I'm currently reading Terri Irwin's book called "Steve and Me: Life with the Crocodile Hunter." It's such a bittersweet book, reading about all these happy and lovely memories, but knowing ultimately how it's going to end. One part caught my attention in specific...when Terri and the kids were in Tasmania and Bindi had purchased a new watch. Out of nowhere, Bindi looks down at her watch and says "it's twelve o'clock." They all stopped to consider that it was twelve o'clock and moved on. Soon after, Terri received the news that Steve was killed...and time of death had been twelve o'clock, the moment Bindi looked at her watch and called out the time. Earlier in the book, it was mentioned how Steve had fallen off a piece of machinery as though something knocked him off...it happened to be the very moment when his mother was killed in a car accident.

I thought back to the day my grandfather passed away. How we received the phone call from one of my aunts around 4:30am telling me his breathing had changed and we needed to get out there. We got up, got ready (and I grabbed extra clothes so I could stay with my family a few days), and headed out. Being that the drive was around 45 minutes to an hour, we had to stop at a gas station since we were low. I was feeling quite panicked, and found it difficult to even breathe. While Wes was pumping gas, I looked at the clock...5:15am. All of a sudden a wave of sadness came over me. The panic was gone, I could breathe normally again, but I was overwhelmed with sadness. We finally arrived at the house around 6am or so and my mom came outside to meet me. She told me he died at about 5:15am.

And even though I never knew this man personally, I can recall all the details going on when I learned of Steve Irwin's death. It was late and I was tired and was ready to go to bed. Wes was already asleep and all the lights were off and I was on the computer wrapping up. I was about ready to shut down the computer when I just felt an urge to stay online for another hour. Being that it was already around 12:30am, there wasn't exactly a lot happening in the online world so it made no sense for me to think that I needed to stay up that extra time. But the urge remained so I played around on Yahoo games for awhile, bored out of my mind and wanting so bad to go to sleep. Approximately an hour later, I got off the games, refreshed my home page and a picture of Steve Irwin appeared with a blaring headline that read "Crocodile Hunter feared dead." A few minutes later, another headline appeared confirming that it was, in fact, Steve Irwin who died. While he had passed away over a day prior to the headline appearing, we were just receiving word of it in the States. I remember covering my mouth so I wouldn't wake up Wes with my sobs. But it brought me right back to when I was sitting at a gas station, looking at a clock that read 5:15am.

It's a bit eerie, isn't it? To have a moments in which you don't know why you're noticing something or feeling something, but you just notice it or feel it. But sometimes I wonder if this is God preparing us for moments that we need to be ready for. Moments that can rock our world, moments that seem to suspend reality for us...is God cluing us in to what's ahead? And don't get me wrong, I'm not talking about some psychic ability. That would be absurd to peg me as that kind of believer. But I am not ruling out the possibility that God can and some times does do things that are clues to what we need to be ready for...particularly if it's something that will deeply affect us.

I had no appetite when my grandfather died. We all went out to eat that day as a big family and I couldn't finish even half of my meal. I remember a comment being made to me that I should eat since someone else was paying for me. But I just couldn't get the food down...otherwise it would come right back up. I could barely sleep for days and when I did sleep, I had dreams that haunted me. Though I never knew Steve Irwin, I cried for days on end after his death...being that what he did was something I felt so deeply about. I'm sure many of those tears were also from unresolved grief over my grandfather. However in the midst of both of those situations, and others, I was comforted by the knowledge that somehow, at particular times, I had been prepared. I was prepared for a storm I was about to face. I won't sit here and pretend that my sadness over Steve Irwin is matched with that of the rest of the Irwin family. Hardly. But I bring it up because of my own experiences of noticing the time of things...and seeing how others have experienced it as well when it was mentioned that Bindi took notice of the time.

Do I believe that God will always give me some divine revelation prior to an event or right at the moment of an event when I haven't yet learned of it? No. But I do believe there are times when God gives us a sign in order to prepare our hearts...as if He were saying "there's something you need to know...here's a small insight." And not that I believe there's something going to happen every moment that I want to know what time it is...but I've also learned to not ignore something God is very clearly putting in front of me.

Photo of tv preview by Mary King (me)

Dealing with Death - The Comfort of a Prepared Room

"In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you."
John 14:2

Heaven has been on my mind quite a bit lately. And really, it ties in to the fact that death, also, has been on my mind quite a bit lately. I found out this morning that a girl who worked at our store last Christmas season was killed in a car/motorcycle crash a couple of days ago. I wasn't close friends with her, but there's a sense of shock when someone you knew is now no longer there. I found it hard to keep my composure being how much I had been thinking about death and heaven lately. It was scary. I keep thinking back to last Christmas, how none of us, least of all her, knew it would be her last Christmas. I do praise God she was saved.

Death hits me hard. I remember when my world crashed when my beloved grandfather passed away. I take it hard when an animal dies. When our guinea pig, Smirnoff died in my arms, all I wanted to do was hold him forever. I still weep over him, our other piggy Ulysses (who died shortly after Smirnoff) and our first pet Squirrely, a hamster. I cried as I cradled a squirrel in my arms when he died. I fear my guinea pigs now dying. And I definitely fear Wes dying. I just don't deal well with death. I am not fond of death, and I don't know too many people who are. I am always the "worst case scenario" person in my mind. I convinced myself as a child that I would have some horrible death, which probably explains why today, I'm afraid to die. I think I watched way too many episodes of America's Most Wanted. Part of my fear of death is what I'll leave behind, and I'm not talking about the material items. I'm scared of leaving my family behind. I'm scared of taking my last breath and not being able to hold my guinea pigs anymore. Of not seeing my siblings grow up. Of not talking to my mom all the time. And most of all, I'm terrified of not being with Wes anymore.

I know I should look forward to going to heaven. There are not enough words in the world to describe the splendor that it will be. But this fallen human nature of mine doesn't want to leave all I cherish behind. And quite honestly, there is a sinful fear of mine that is afraid of what heaven will be like. There's no marriage in heaven. When I get to heaven, Wes will not be my husband. As a wife madly in love with her husband, that is a very hard and painful pill for me to swallow. It's hard for me to accept that there will come a time when Wes and Mary will be in heaven...but we will not be Wes & Mary. And I suspect that I am not the only married woman out there who struggles with that.

What has comforted me throughout the years when dealing with this fear of mine was John 14:2. "Home" is always a comforting place, so the idea that I will be living in my Father's house helps calms those fears. And Jesus said He would be preparing a place for us in that house. I often like to think of what my room would be like. Bear with my tendency to place a human idea on the concept of a heavenly room being prepared for me. I imagine a room filled with photos of animals and nature in the state God intended them to be when He created them. I imagine looking out a balcony in my room and seeing these animals wandering freely and enjoying each other's company. There are pictures of my family on the wall. And in my room are Squirrely, Smirnoff, and Ulysses...and eventually joined by Eggnog, Mocha, and Coconut (and whatever other pets we will have). I imagine Pito (my grandfather) walking into my rooms to greet me with his wonderful greetings and giving me a big hug and telling me everything there is up there. And I imagine a big cushy bed, a king size, and I'll sleep on one side, and Wes will be on my other side. And I know the Bible says there will be no tears in heaven...but I just can't imagine seeing all that, and being in God's presence, and not crying tears of joy. And what brings me the ultimate comfort is the fact that it's Jesus who is preparing my place in heaven. Jesus, the Son of God, the Savior of this world, is preparing a place especially for me.

In my heart I know that heaven will not be whatever human concept I have of it. I know it will be nothing like anything I can imagine and I know that what will be most important to me will be glorifying God. But these thoughts have still comforted me and helped me to understand that going to heaven is not a scary thing...indeed, it is something to look forward to. I don't look forward to dying, I truly don't. And well, why should I? Death is a consequence of sin. Who ever looks forward to getting consequences? But I am so thankful that in His Word, God has provided comfort and hope for that moment after death.