After the death of my dearly beloved husband, I was alone for the very first time in my life. For me, the silence of being alone now is deafening, and the pain of loneliness is indescribable. Shortly after his death, I was diagnosed with dry macular degeneration in both eyes and legally blind in the left eye. What a blow! Although I have worn glasses for years, I had no clue that this disease had crept upon me like a thief in the night. It was the most devastating news I could have received while grieving for my husband of nearly fifty years.

Each day becomes a challenge to find the strength to survive. Oh yes, I have joined senior groups, looking for comfort, love, and perhaps some measure of belonging. However, with my increasing vision problems, I am reluctant to drive into town. Our son moved to Texas shortly after the death of his father. Our daughter teaches school in a county adjacent to mine, but her hectic schedule allows little time for family and/or social contact. I have always declared that I would not become a burden to my children. After all, they have lives of their own.

But sometimes God chooses a simple way to answer to our prayers. Both my husband and I had always been very fond of cats and always had several in our home at any given time. I now have four furry, little friends. He loved them, and we both enjoyed watching each one develop a unique personality. They are as different as people. "Fluffy" is a big, calico cat. She is extremely shy and cannot adjust to strangers in the house or any unusual noises.

When anyone knocks at the door, Fluffy runs into my bedroom to hide. I know just where her hiding place is. She jumps up into a basket of clothing inside my closet. She curls up as if to say, "I’m safe now; nothing can harm me." The other day, I had to call the repairman about my dishwasher. As soon as he knocked on the door, Fluffy ran as quickly as she could to her "secret" hiding place. I walked into the closet without switching on the light, so as not to disturb her sense of security. I stood beside the basket and stroked her head and back as I listened to her contented purring. I talked softly to her as I reached down, picked her up, held her, and whispered to her that she was safe in my arms. The words, "Safe in my arms," seemed to echo back at me, as though I, too, was being held. A lovely, warm feeling flowed through me as I repeated those words over and over. Somehow, I knew God had found a way to reassure me that, although I am alone, I will always be safe in the arms of God.

Mark 10:16 - And He took them up in His arms, put His hands upon them, and blessed them