When the Lost Finds the Way Home

When the Lost Finds the Way Home
A small moment that reminded me of
the joy of returning.

Sometimes, a small unexpected moment at the door can quietly touch the heart. One evening, just as I was about to go out for groceries, a lost white cat appeared at my doorstep. 

At that moment, I did not know that this little lost cat would also awaken a memory from many years ago.

For a brief two hours, he became part of our home — and in that short time, he awakened memories of love, loss, and the quiet joy of finding what once seemed lost.

On the evening of March 4, 2026, at about 6:30 p.m., I was preparing to go out to buy some groceries. The moment I opened the door, Simon was standing there holding a beautiful white furry creature with a long tail — a lovely cat that looked like an Iranian or Turkish breed.

“Mom, it has been lost for two days!” Simon said, almost as if he were pleading with me. Mr. Pet-Cat-Lover had told him that he already had nine cats at home and could not keep another one.

Simon looked at me and asked gently, “Mom, could we take care of the cat for the time being?”

“Of course,” I replied. “We will keep it here for now. If the owner comes looking for it, we will return it.”

Simon smiled with relief.

“Great! You’re such a considerate boy,” I added with a smile.

That evening, I did not go grocery shopping after all. Instead, Mr. Pet-Cat-Lover brought us a big bag of cat food, a pet toilet, and two bowls — one for water and the other for food.

The moment Simon put the cat down, we realized it was a male cat. He was surprisingly friendly. He followed Simon into his room, then came out and followed me to the kitchen.

Because of him, my plans for the evening changed completely. Instead of going out, I stayed home to spend time with him.

Simon named him Shiro, a Japanese name often associated with the meaning “white,” sometimes symbolically linked to the image of a white wolf. Before giving him food, we gently tried to familiarize him with his new name.

“Shiro… come for your food… Shiro… Shiro…”

I took out my white rug and a basket to make a comfortable bed for him.

During those two hours with Shiro, memories of my beloved dog Honey quietly returned to me.

Many years ago, after Honey was lost, I drew a small sketch of her — perhaps to keep her close in my heart.

I drew this after she was lost, hoping somehow to hold on to the memory of her. 

I drew this after Honey was lost,
hoping somehow to hold on to the memory of her.

I remember that winter very clearly. I rode my bicycle through the cold streets, calling her name again and again.
Whenever I saw a white dog in the distance, my heart would suddenly jump with hope. I would slow down and call softly,
“Honey… Honey…”

Then I would walk closer, hoping to see the small birthmark on her back.

Many times it was not her. Each time I rode away with a quiet ache in my heart, whispering a small prayer that whoever might have found Honey would treat her kindly and take good care of her. 

Perhaps it was that same quiet memory of loss that made our brief time with this little cat feel even more precious.

I was still immersed in those memories when suddenly the doorbell rang.

For a brief moment, Simon and I looked at each other.

“Could it be…?” Simon said softly. I opened the door. 

Standing there was a lady with anxious eyes and hopeful expectation written all over her face. The moment she saw the cat, her face lit up with relief and joy. 

“Amiro!” she called.  We then realized that Amiro was the cat’s real name.

For a brief second, the cat lifted his head.

Then he immediately ran toward her, and the owner gently kissed him. 

In that instant, the worry on her face melted into pure happiness. She held Amiro close, clearly grateful that he had been safe.

Simon and I felt an unexpected warmth in our hearts. Returning Amiro to his owner brought us a quiet joy — the kind that comes from knowing that something lost had finally found its way home.

In that quiet moment, a simple truth gently settled in my heart: the joy of finding what was lost is always deeper than we expect, and it touches every human heart.

This small “lost and found” moment reminded me of a beautiful story in the Bible — the parable of the prodigal son. Just as the father waited patiently for his lost son to return home, our Lord Jesus also waits lovingly for His children to come back to Him.

“For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.” — Luke 15:24

And when the lost finally return, heaven rejoices — just as we did that evening when Amiro found his way back home.

In that quiet moment, I was reminded that the joy of finding what was lost touches every human heart.

Perhaps every small “lost and found” moment in life quietly reminds us of a greater hope — that one day, nothing precious will ever be lost again.

Sometimes God reminds us of His greater truths through the smallest moments of daily life — even through a lost cat that finds its way home.

— Georgia

The Journey of Love and Unity

 The Journey of Love and Unity

Every morning, I would wake up to the sun's soft rays peeking through my curtains, a gentle reminder of God's new mercies each day. Today was no different, but as I opened my eyes, I felt a quiet determination to live out the teachings of Ephesians 4:2-3: "With all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of

 peace." 

 I had always believed in the power of these words, but today, I knew I would need them more than ever. My neighbour, Mrs. Thompson, had been particularly difficult lately. Her constant complaints about the noise from my young learners playing in the garden had created a tension that seemed unresolvable. 

 After my morning prayers, I decided to bake a loaf of bread. As I kneaded the dough, I prayed for patience and a heart full of love. I thought of Jesus, who always met people with humility and gentleness, and asked for the strength to do the same. 

I walked over to Mrs. Thompson's house with the freshly baked bread in hand. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. Mrs. Thompson opened it with a look of surprise. Before she could say anything, I smiled warmly and handed her the bread.

 "Good morning, Mrs. Thompson. I wanted to bring you this. I know we've had some disagreements lately, and I'm truly sorry we've caused you any distress. I hope we can find a way to live peacefully as neighbors."

 Mrs. Thompson's stern expression softened as she took the bread. "Thank you, Georgia. It's been a challenging time for me, and I admit I've been quick to complain. I appreciate your kindness."

Luke12:14 Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace, good will toward men!”

I felt a wave of relief washes over her. "Let's try to be more understanding of each other. We're both part of this community, and it's important to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace."

Mrs. Thompson nodded, and for the first time in weeks, we shared a genuine smile. It was a small step, but a significant one towards healing and unity.

That evening, I reflected on the day's events. I was grateful for the opportunity to practice humility, gentleness, and patience. The bond of peace was not just an abstract concept but a living, breathing reality that I could nurture every day.

I whispered a prayer of thanks, feeling a deep sense of fulfillment. I knew that with God's guidance, I could continue to bear with others in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit and create a harmonious life filled with peace.

And so, each day, I committed to living out the words of Ephesians 4:2-3, finding joy

in the journey of love and unity. 

December 20: A Day of Love Remembered

 

As I sit quietly this evening, my thoughts are drawn irresistibly to George, my beloved husband. December 21 marks the day we stood before God and pledged our hearts to one another—a date forever etched into my soul. Time moves swiftly, and though it has been two and a half years since George left for my Father’s home, not a single day passes without his presence in my thoughts. In the morning, afternoon, and night, especially in the quiet moments before sleep, I feel his love surrounding me, as real as if he were here by my side.

We had a love that was tender and true, a bond nurtured by daily rituals that reflected the depth of our connection. Each morning began with a warm hug, each night ended with a kiss and shared prayers. We faced life together, whether in joy or sorrow, encouraging one another with faith and hope. “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins” (1 Peter 4:8). This verse guided our marriage, reminding us that forgiveness and grace are the cornerstones of a lasting union.

Our shared love of literature added another layer to our lives. Together, we journeyed through the words of Tolstoy, Shakespeare, Faulkner, and Conrad. “There is no happiness or unhappiness in this world; there is only the comparison of one state with another,” Tolstoy wrote in Anna Karenina. We cherished these moments, marveling at the truths that spoke to the human heart. Shakespeare’s sonnet whispered to us, “Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds... It is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken.”

And yet, life brings its tempests. The price of such profound love, I have come to understand, is the grief that lingers when one is left behind. C.S. Lewis, in his reflections on loss, wrote, “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken.” My heart is indeed wrung, yet I would not trade one moment of our shared life, for even the pain is a testament to the beauty of what we had.

In the evenings, I often imagine George sitting on the couch or by my bedside, his kind eyes
meeting mine as we talk about the day. Though I can no longer touch his hand, I feel his spirit near, as if whispering the words of Matthew 28:20: “Surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” His presence is a reminder that love transcends even death.

Our marriage was a journey of faith, anchored in the belief that God’s love sustains all things. “Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate” (Mark 10:9). In this assurance, I find solace. Though George has gone ahead, I trust that he is preparing a room for me in the Father’s house, as Jesus promised in John 14:2.

On the eve of our anniversary, I celebrate the love that defined our lives, a love that remains eternal. George, you are my ever-fixed mark, my joy and my sorrow, my strength and my vulnerability. As we shared our favorite literary lines, I now share this prayer:

Lord, thank You for the gift of love that George and I shared. May this love continue to light my path, even in his absence, until we meet again in Your eternal embrace. Amen.

A Day of Encouragement

A Day of Encouragement 

Every morning, Georgia and George began their day with a cup of coffee and a prayer, sitting on their cozy porch. They would hold hands, thanking God for His blessings and seeking His guidance for the day ahead. They lived by the verse, "Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing" (1 Thessalonians 5:11), and made it their mission to uplift each other daily.

Georgia worked as an English tutor, running a tuition center, while George was a retiree who loved reading and making homemade pastries. Despite their busy schedules, they always found time to send each other uplifting messages. Georgia would text George, “You’re doing amazing work, love. Your kindness is like fresh bread, nourishing everyone you meet.” George would reply, “You inspire your students every day. Your wisdom and patience are blessings to all of them.” 

In the evening, after dinner, they would share their day's highs and lows. Georgia listened intently as George recounted a new pastry recipe he tried and how it turned out, offering words of encouragement and a hug. George would then hear about Georgia’s day at the tuition center, cheering her on for her patience and dedication to her students. 

Before bed, they read a Bible passage together, reflecting on how they could support and encourage each other more. George would often say, “Georgia, your strength in faith lifts me up. Thank you for being my rock.” And Georgia would respond, “George, your love and warmth build me up every day. I’m grateful for you.”

Their love and encouragement for each other were a living testimony of their faith. Georgia and George embodied the spirit of 1 Thessalonians 5:11 through their words and actions, creating a home filled with love, support, and trust.