The Notes fall in place

As the guitar teacher and Asherel were strumming together, the marmalade cat added his discordant "meow!" He was clearly not musical, being several notes off-key.

The cat had wandered into the backyard studio, and then made himself the object of attention as desperately as he could. He had one mangled ear, healed now but clearly chewed off in some altercation.

"Hi Taylor," said Lenny the teacher, unable to ignore the cat's unmelodious mewing.
"Did he lose his ear in a fight?" I asked.
"Probably," said Lenny, "He is the neighbor's cat and it was that way when we met him. But he does terrorize my cat so I wouldn't doubt it."

The cat climbed into the guitar case, and mewed again, begging me to resume scratching him behind his ears. Asherel strummed and I scratched. And mosquitoes buzzed, having been reincarnated in the suddenly humid warm days of Indian Summer. Lenny smacked one right in mid strum.
"You could at least do that on beat," I said.
"I was never a drummer," he told me.

It was one of those happy little vignettes of life that had arrived by a miraculous confluence of events, engineered, I am convinced, by the Master Engineer. Asherel had won an art contest last year that entitled her to a free art class with Community School of the Arts. (CSA) Since I don't own a pottery wheel, she had signed up for a class that taught Clay-making with the Pottery Wheel. Sadly, the school called me when class was about to begin to tell me that registration had been dismal this year, and the class was canceled. But she offered me to choose another class.

Meanwhile, Asherel and I were attempting to learn how to play guitar together. I play a little, enough to get us started, and we had been slowly working our way through basic chords. Asherel still laughed every time we played the Beatles song, "Rain", not convinced that my rather sorry singing and playing was optimal. However, we are maxed out on funds for extracurricular activities, and while not ideal, I could teach guitar, at least as well as I teach Algebra 2.

"There are no other art classes she is interested in," I told the CSA representiative, " I am an artist myself and have taught her or can teach all the other areas you offer in art."
"How about a music class?" she asked.
"Do you have guitar lessons?"
"Yes, but he teaches out of his home, not here."
She gave me the address. It was 5 minutes from me.  A free semester of guitar lessons and 5 minutes away.

So it didn't even matter if we didn't like Lenny- he was free and close by, and he couldn't be worse than me in teaching guitar. But lo and behold, Lenny is a stupendous guitarist and a gentle and a kind man that knows Beatles songs by heart! When he heard Asherel was a Beatle groupie, he immediately taught her a song to practice. And while she picks out the tune laborious note by laborious note, he is so skillful that he can accompany her and it sounds like a concert.

So the cat and I, sitting in the waning afternoon sun streaming in the open studio door along with the mosquitoes listened .  Some people might only have heard stumbling plucking strings and soft accompanying chords, but I heard the hand of God arranging every note of a precious life.

Jeremiah 1:5 (New International Version)

 ⁵ "Before I formed you in the womb I knew  you,
       before you were born I set you apart;

God Carries a Crate

"You have not because you ask not."
Could it really be that simple?
Probably when the Bible records those words, it is with reference to things like developing a soul that God would want hanging out with Him for all eternity.  I mean, it is not likely that God would reject the heartfelt sincere prayer of someone begging for the soul transformation that would bring her the ability to pray more deeply, love more fully, reflect God more completely.  I don't think it generally means material possessions, though every single one of my kids has quoted that verse at one time or another as support for the shiny new thing that they felt I had been biblically mandated to provide.

So I didn't even think to pray for a crate for Lucky.  I did what anyone does who needs an item and wants to get it as cheaply as possible. I got on the computer and hit my favorite button, the shopping button. The world of crate construction has expanded like melting cheese since I last  was in the crate buying market. There are still the basic wire crates with the single function of keeping a dog contained in a small space that  will prevent him from packing his bags and heading off to a vacation on the busy highway a mile away.  But now there are also crates that are designed to meld seamlessly with home decorating.  Crate end tables, made of cherry with tasteful mission-style flavor. Crate coffee tables that hide the imprisoned pet neatly under the magazines artfully arranged on a mahogany surface. Crate couches with padded seats for the guest who wants to sit on the dog without getting dog hair on his black pants. Rattan crates, plastic crates, wood crates, glass crates.... gold plated crates.....crates for small dogs, crates for big dogs,  crates for growing dogs with removable walls so one crate is all the growing pup will ever need.  I can't imagine what impoverished third world countries that make a total of $1.23 per year think of people who spend thousands of dollars for a dog crate that can double as a cappuccino machine.

But even the cheapest dog crates the size Lucky requires were not cheap.  So it was with incredulous delight that I perused the email from an old friend who read my blog and offered large crates that she was just going to donate to the Humane Society anyway. Instead, she would donate them to Lucky, and to Hollow Creek Farm.

I didn't pray for a crate, but God sent me one anyway. And He sent it in the arms of a loving friend who also stood and listened to some of the turmoils of my soul and eased some of the burdens that we all carry.  I suspect God knew I didn't need the crate as much as I needed the sweet listening spirit of a friend. God works in mysterious ways, and while the path is often clear in hindsight, sometimes it doesn't make any sense at all while we are lost in the underbrush.  And then, He reaches into the bramble and clears a patch with a fellow traveler.... and the traveler bears the image of Love and carries a crate.

Psalm 112:4-6 (New International Version)

 ⁴ Even in darkness light dawns for the upright,
       for the gracious and compassionate and righteous man. 
 ⁵ Good will come to him who is generous and lends freely,
       who conducts his affairs with justice.
 ⁶ Surely he will never be shaken;
       a righteous man will be remembered forever.