. . . And a Kitty Shall Lead Them . . .

by

Sandy S. Hemenway

July 16, 2001

How often, I wonder, are we the answers to someone else's prayers? I suspect it is much more often than we have any reason to expect. Perhaps that is why it is so fulfilling on those occasions when we become aware that we have answered a prayer. And I believe that is why it is good to pause sometimes to thank God for the privilege of answering prayers, even more so than having our prayers answered.

So what does all this talk of prayer have to do with a kitty, you're asking? Well, before we get into that, let me fill in a little background about myself. I was raised in the Baptist Church, (yes, Southern Baptist), growing up primarily in a small town in eastern, North Carolina called Hamilton. Hamilton is easy to describe. It's like Mayberry on Valium. Of the 536 residents, I was Opie Taylor, the red-haired freckle-faced kid, perpetually cheerful and never, (okay, rarely), in trouble.

My brother Scotty, two years my senior, was recruited to play piano for Sunday School when I was about 12. I ended up stepping in for him in an emergency, and eventually became a fixture, playing for Sunday School, Church, Choir, Revivals, etc. I continued playing for church until I left for UNC in 1980.

As is the case with many people, my church-going habits changed dramatically when I went to college. Dramatic in this case was dropping from every single week to never. For the next two decades the only times I stepped in a church were holidays, wedding, funerals, and a few gigs when I was in a Christian Rock group. Every now and then I would chide myself that I really ought to find a church to attend, but it was just too easy to sleep in on Sunday mornings.

In the early '90s, I found my soul mate, Bobbi, and we got married in 1996. We didn't bother with church then, either, instead getting married at the Cary Police Department. The subject of religion rarely came up, though she knew I was raised Baptist, and she had mentioned having been raised Pentecostal Holiness, but her last real church going experience had been to a Unity Church in Roanoke, Virginia. I didn't know anything about Unity, and wasn't really interested. I was very happy with my life. I had a good job, a fantastic wife, three grown step-children and an affectionate cat named Java.

In the fall of 1999, Java ran away. Java was a housecat thru-and-thru. We'd had his front claws removed to spare the furniture. Our dog, Max, has since rendered that decision moot, but I digress. In any case, Java's disappearance hit Bobbi and me extremely hard. Bobbi had lost other pets before, and losing Java just helped bring back the memories of those previous losses.

After he was gone two days, I prayed. Mind you, that while I hadn't attended church in some time, I still prayed occasionally. Sometimes for aid in stressful times, but mostly to thank God for all the wonderful things in my life. In this case, I did something I had never done before. Though I knew it was cliché, I did the "bargain" prayer. I promised God that if he would return Java safely, I would go back to church. The next day, we found Java, shivering and wet, hiding under our townhouse. Other than being extremely hungry, he was fine.

This occurred in November, before Thanksgiving. After the excitement was over, I told Bobbi of my little deal, and she agreed that it would be nice to go back to church. I told her I had no strong feelings about what denomination, and she suggested Unity. So, we looked in the phonebook, and found the Unity Church of the Triangle, (UCT). In hindsight, it is interesting that of the three in the area, we picked UCT. In truth, the one in Cary would have been much closer, but I think this is where Divine Order starts kicking in.

So, we walked in off the street to UCT. It happened to be the last day for the previous music/choir director. I thought it strange we should walk in on Tracy’s last day. Since the last six years I had attended Church, it had always been in the capacity of Church Pianist, there was simply no way I could not think about the concept of returning to that role. I actually remember thinking how weird it would have been had the Church pianist been the one leaving that day.

The Spirit and camaraderie of UCT was enough to get us to return the next week. You can imagine my surprise when I saw the call for a pianist in the bulletin. So I made a phone call, and volunteered to play for the choir's Christmas program. That led to becoming a regular keyboardist for Sunday services, and Bobbi and I have become fixtures in the third row ever since.

Then, in mid-July of 2001, Java ran away again.

Fear is a powerful enemy, and the worry that Java might not return arose again. But, though the emotions were strong, it was interesting to see the difference in both of us the second time around. Bobbi pulled on her lessons from her 4-T course, imagining Java back, thanking God in advance for bringing him back, and accepting that God's timetable may not necessarily coincide with hers. I, meanwhile, had already started thinking about writing this article, relating the story of how Java brought Bobbi and me to UCT. With Java gone a second time, I thought what wonderful symmetry it would make to be able to finish this article with Java returning again. We found Java only hours later, once again hiding under our townhouse.

It gives me a warm feeling inside to know that I have been the answer to someone else's prayers. But it makes me feel even better believing I may have been the answer to countless prayers that I'll never realize. Each day we all have the opportunity to answer prayers without even knowing it. As cynical and disconnected as our society has become, a smile, a kind word, a selfless gesture, (like letting someone merge into traffic on I-40), may be the answer to someone's prayer.

Ultimately, I think Java was the answer to a prayer I uttered from time to time during my "20 years in the desert." I often wished I had a reason to return to the church. For the longest time I had the inclination, but lacked the motivation. It's nice to be back. My prayer today is that perhaps these words will touch a heart or two and spur someone else into becoming the answer to an unknown prayer.

December 11, 2004

In the Spring of 2002, I started writing music again. From the age of 16 to 26 I had written many, many songs. But I eventually set aside my song-writing as my dreams of becoming a pop star faded. Playing at UCT had rekindled my desire to create, and I started writing instrumentals.

In October of 2002, I created an astounding (to me) dozen melodies in a two week period. At this point, I knew if I didn’t get all this material recorded, I’d start forgetting it. So, I rented a couple of hours in a studio, and produced an instrumental CD. I even sold about a dozen copies.

During 2003, I started putting lyrics to many of these tunes, with the help of Alan Smith, the bass player in the UCT band, as well as my wife, Bobbi. By the end of 2003, I felt I had enough completed songs to begin a full blown CD project. I then started pulling together the resources and people I’d need to complete such a project.

I contacted Ted Etheridge, a friend I grew up with in Hamilton, who had been producing and recording music for over a decade. He also agreed to play drums for the project. Alan agreed to play bass for me, and so the project was off the ground, as I started recording in April of 2004.

Along the way, I contacted Miles Costin, of the Transzenders, and he was gracious enough to add his considerable guitar playing skills to my project. My brother, Scotty, also came by and helped with some backup vocals and organ riffs. Without the kindness and selfless contributions from all these wonderful people, “The Road Home” would still be just a dream.

In April of 2004, Java became ill, and was diagnosed with a heart condition common to male cats his age. Bobbi and I said our goodbyes, and let Java take his Road Home. Though I am sad that he is no longer with us, I am happy knowing that his presence in our lives brought us so much joy. I pray that the songs on “The Road Home” may bring similar joy you. “Goodbye to a Friend” was written for Java just days after he passed on.