Higher Power

Today is Tuesday and my brother Little Hatchi is sitting at the breakfast table, and he is whimpering loudly. Mom tells him to please stop whimpering or go to his room until he thinks he can eat without interrupting everyone else’s breakfast.

The reason for Little Hatchi’s whimpering is that 4 days ago, his best friend and kitty, Boxer was run over by a car and died. My brother hasn’t been the same since. He’s not out in the yard playing, he’s not playing video games, there are no sounds coming out of his room, he is in a total breakdown and depression right now. I don’t feel like Mom and Dad are being very supportive actually. Boxer had been his kitty since he was 3 years old and now being 11 years old, I can understand why he’s devastated.

I went to his room after breakfast, I took a little piece of a sausage and a biscuit with me and was hoping he would feel like talking for a few minutes.

When he said; “Come in”, I was elated, and he was happy that I had brought him a little snack. I asked him if he thought that he would be all right at some point, and he took that opportunity to start letting me know how he felt about the situation.

He told me that the whole world is not right in his mind, he just can’t believe that Boxer is gone and he doesn’t know what he’s going to do now. He said he thought about asking God to help him make this right in his mind and heart so he could concentrate on the things that he needs to work on everyday like homework. When he asked mom about praying to God, she told him that God is very busy saving people’s souls, and that he should wait until he is either going to break one of the ten commandants or do something that is unacceptable to most other people before he asks for God’s help.

Then my brother asked dad if it would be ok to ask God to help him and Dad said that God doesn’t use his time to talk to children much unless their life is in danger. He loves children but feels that they are not experienced enough to have questions at this stage of their lives since they haven’t had many issues up to this point.

Little Hatchi was desperate, so he went as far as to ask his teacher at school, she  told him that God knows what is going on in his life and if something is troubling enough for him to think about asking God a question, then God will hear Little Hatchi and show him the way.

Little Hatchi has been thinking about these three answers and thinking about how much his heart is hurting, he keeps crying over the little things. If someone says “Hi” to him or mom tells him to clean up his bedroom, since Boxer was so much a part of his life that he’s on his mind all the time and that he keeps looking for Boxer even though he was there when dad put him in a painted shoe box.

Little Hatchi painted the box with hearts, balloons, flowers and other things that he thought might make Boxer happy. Things that Boxer and Little Hatchi had played with together and he had a little bag of treats that Boxer really enjoyed. They would pretend that Boxer was a dog in one of those obstacle courses;  he would go in and out of boxes, jump over hurdles and run a track of some sort. Every time he did something correct, Little Hatchi would give him a treat. He was so willing to do things with me, Little Hatchi is missing him so much.

My brother decided that he wasn’t going to listen to anybody about praying to God to ease his pain. He prayed and prayed, one day he even called out “God,,,,,,,, Are you there? Can you hear my prayers, why don’t you answer me?” He felt foolish running outside in the yard shouting those questions but he was desperate to have someone take the pain away. Also, his teacher said that time heals all wounds, whether it’s a real cut, a broken arm or leg or a heartache. In all the understandings he has of life so far, he can’t see where time, just time could heal anything. It’s not something he can hold in his hands, or see by looking outside, or in the house. He even looked in the refrigerator, nope; nothing like time sitting on the shelves. So he was beginning to think that this “God” person was only a figment of everybody’s imagination and he really wasn’t anyplace or anything. Little Hatchi’s close friend at school said he would be damned for saying and thinking such things, and he had better stop it, or the devil himself would come to see him, his friend really didn’t know what the devil would do to him, but it wouldn’t be enjoyable.

When he got home from school that day, he started thinking that if “God “himself was a figment of imagination, then the devil must be a figment also and Little Hatchi is not going to be afraid of either one of them. All he knew was the pain he was feeling and neither one of them are going to do anything about it. He was sooooooo upset, how could he not look for Boxer every day? How could he not long for him to cuddle with every night before they go to sleep? How can he not start crying every time he sees the little bag of treats that Boxer loved so much?

My brother asked me to please leave and let him alone for a while, he felt sick at his stomach and thought he’d lay down. Tonight after every one has come home from school and work, we will bury Boxer in one of his favorite places to sit and watch birdies at the feeder that we have hanging in the back yard. Boxer always looked like he wanted to pounce on a little birdie, but time after time, he would come up empty, he wasn’t fast enough to catch one.

So sure enough, after a dinner of spaghetti (which is Little Hatchi’s favorite dinner) we all went outside for the burial. Little Hatchi carried the decorated box with his best friend inside; crying and sobbing all the way. We took turns telling our stories about Boxer and what we loved about him. When it was Little Hatchi’s turn, he was sobbing so much, he could hardly speak, but he managed to say; “Boxer was my very best friend, I loved him so much” That was all he could muster and then he broke out in tears again.

While we were watching dad put the box in the ground, mom told us to go inside until dad had fixed the grave for Boxer with a cross and Boxer’s name and date of birth and death, just like in the cemeteries.

Little Hatchi and I were sitting on the couch, he was still moping and the look on his face lets me know that he doesn’t feel like talking about the situation.  We noticed a familiar sound, like a kitties’ meow. We jumped up to see if we were delusional or if we really heard what we thought we had heard. Sure enough, right by the outside of the garage door, sat a beautiful yellow haired kitty.  When we were looking at her, she started purring and rubbing the side of the garage door opening, so we went over to her and she started rubbing us and purring. Little Hatchi was smiling and the hurtful face and tears were gone.

He looked at me and said; “God has answered my prayers, I’m so happy and will love and take care of this kitty like I took care of Boxer. I will tell everyone that I can, about how God helped me.”