Foreboding

At 625pm today, I had a sense of foreboding about the evening. I knew that it wasn't going to be good. Mentioned it to Dane and he said exactly the same thing. What do you know! It certainly didn't turn out well. Why is that so? Is there a spiritual force behind what we feel, what we say, and what actually happens? Just two hours ago, I was believing that it was a coincidence, or an accurate sixth sense of mine. But in the last few minutes, as I type this, I am suddenly reminded of the power of our words and declarations. Speak forth words of blessing and you will be a blessing; speak forth curses and you will be a curse.

Pastor Derek reminded us that life is about God and me. I covet, envy, hang on, strive, with all worldy desire, but nothing fulfills besides the Holy Spirit. They tell us not to be content with the status quo, but how can you constantly be discontented? What if the Lord doesn't mind us being mediocre? And I'm asked to face the music; to not run away. In a sense you're right, I might be trying to run away. But on the other hand, I know that I have to do it, it is an opportunity for me to find God again, to be forced to rely on Him only. It sort of came as a slap on the face- realising that I tell others to let go and place their most precious possessions on the altar, trusting God to do whatever He wants with them. But not doing it myself, because it is so difficult, so difficult. My mind rationals that it is more prudent to hang on, to be safe. But that is not what the Lord wants of me. He can only bring His work to completion if I surrender my life and all in it to Him.

I spayed Tink yesterday. Pauline was right in saying that you should never spay your own cat. Her skin landmarks were probably displaced by her previous injuries, and man was my incision caudal. I had to extend it to become 3cm instead of the normal 1cm, poor little thing. Cut through muscle instead as well. >.<

Hm I don't know what I'm writing tonight, all in a jumble. No Grey's anatomy, silly Emmy's.:( Wonder if my pyometra dog will be alive tomorrow. The crazy cat which swallowed a needle and thread certainly will be, even though he bit his poor grandma owner multiple times.

Breeding

I wrote a whole lot on Maya and how she was leaving tomorrow to have babies in the Philippines. How it was another stop to a start. How it was beautiful feeling her babies kick in her belly, and how miraculous childbirth is. How she looks a whiter shade of pale each day, and how I wouldn't like to go through the pain of it. And that for now, would rather stick to my anti-breeding campaign. >.<
But it all got lost because this internet thing felt like deleting it, and I can't even get mad at it.
Oh well. I shall sleep.

Where reality is like a dream.

I only remembered that caption after reading through criss' blog tonight. It was in some perhentian brochure I think? We didn't really understand it at first, but after some thought it did start to make sense. It was all like a dream which came and went too quickly. Or partial sense probably, because it is rather like an escape from reality instead.
I just felt sorry for the green turtle who came around to shark bay that night, seeking solace in the darkness to nest, only to be subjected to harassment by a rowdy, light-welding bunch of humans.
I loved the shy Christmas Tree worms, always avoiding contact but popping out from their holes in the corals in an array of rainbow colours. And the little families of brightly striped clownfish always close by the dancing medusa-tentacles of the sea anemone. Oh, and this little hermit crab, conscientiously making its way from the shore to sea, violently withdrawing into its shell when it noted my existence, peeping out after a few minutes, walking a few more steps, and frantically hiding in true ostrich style again when I made my presence known. Poor little hapless fella.