Max the cat is curled on my lap. Purring. It’s a wonderful moment, one I wasn’t sure would happen again.
Two weeks ago, Max was attacked. I went out to get the mail shortly after sunset and heard a pained yowl from the side of the porch. Max was lying in a bank of snow, head down and eyes closed. There was blood in the snow. Ice was frozen to the hair on his belly. There were human footprints around him. Either someone had pelted him with snowballs, or a loose dog had attacked him and someone had tried to pull the dog away.
Either way, Max was in trouble.
The vets sewed him up — he had eight tears in his abdominal wall, results of the struggle. He also had the cat equivalent of a concussion. He was bruised and in bad shape. He might not make it through.
The hands of many caring people kept him alive and helped him get through it. The next two weeks would remind me that there are so many healers in the world.
We all bring pain into the world in some ways. We all get beat up from time to time. It’s inevitable. That’s just how life works. And in those moments when we’re bleeding, we learn what it means to be a healer.
There are so many people who make themselves available to us for healing. They might be in a healing profession, or they might just have the healing touch. When they see someone bleeding by the side of the road, they don’t just walk past. They stop, bandage their wounds and carry them to a safer place. They comfort them and encourage them.
They become incubators where healing begins.
Healers seem to understand that while pain and death are inevitabilities, they’re not finalities. Life always transcends both. It carries us through those moments and beyond them.
Healers know instinctively that life always has the final say.
Max is healing very nicely. The staples have been removed from his belly, leaving a surgical scar that will be a permanent reminder of something that happened to him. He’s starting to jump up on chairs again, eager to curl up on an unclaimed lap.
Which also is a good reminder that healing is a two-way endeavor. It always comes back to the sender and reminds them of the miracle. In some ways, it always brings the healer a bit of healing, too.
Sometimes, it just curls up on your lap and purrs.