They will be holding to the edges of the wall, the pole, the tree branch, the fence, the cold railing on my balcony. Peeking through the summer rain, waiting for the sun, waiting for the hope, waiting for their life.
So am I.
After the big hit that saved us from foreclosure at the end of June, we are back to the days where donations are running dry and weekly goals missed.
But as much as I can, those paper plates with strips of steamed fish will still be there. As much as I can, pouches of what probably the only food for the day is there.
As much as I can, those two round eyes should still be gleaming; those four match-thin legs running. As much as I can, those snotty nose should be cleared, crusty eyes opened, sickness medicated, and sore paws paid in full.
Because they did nothing wrong in this world, yet they bear the curses and garbage of man. They live innocently, true to nature, and bear the boulder of human arrogance. They ask for nothing and bear the punishment. Sometimes to their tragic, miserable, gruesome deaths, and they bear it all without voice, without defense, without chance.
They bear the cross and that thorn crown all the way. They cross the path too, from this hell to the door of heaven silently.
For these smallest of my brethren I will walk that extra mile. For their unsung life I will lend my voice.
For these people with whom we have the privilege to share dominion, I am turning to you. Please help us. One more strip of steamed fish, one more pouch of kitten food.
Please lend them your grace. They won’t ask more than one more breath.