Barbara Morris
About two years ago, when God looked around and spied Cora, a ragamuffin orphaned cat and Barbara, a disheveled, lonely 90-year-old widow, he knew there was a need for a call to action. It must have broken his kind heart to see Cora’s once lustrous fur, now dull and matted from weeks of living alone in a dark closet and to despair at Barbara’s tangled, unbrushed hair, slouched shoulders and worn and saggy jammies.God knew how uncomfortable-itchy and grimy-these two must feel, but he knew they needed more than a bath and cosmetic fixes. More than anything, this desultory duo needed compassion, friendship, love, warmth, understanding and heaps of hugs. In short, they needed each other. And so, God gave them as gifts to each other. Clearly they went together like peanut butter and jelly or gin and tonic. It was easy, not just because these were divine actions, but because Cora and Barbara lived in a retirement community on the same floor (the 13th) and same hallway.Cora was hiding in the closet because Marjorie, her owner, was dying, and the apartment was crammed with hospital equipment, nurses, aides, family and friends. Barbara was living a life of boredom alone at the other end of the hall because Ward, her husband of 56 years, a retired naval officer had suddenly died. During their married life, Barbara and Ward had joyfully traveled the world-to 100 countries. Now, mourning and alone, Barbara had no urge to travel. She wasn’t pleased to admit it to herself, but she had no purpose in life.Well, God took care of that by sending Cora down the hall to be cared for when Marjorie died. She was a gift from God to Barbara. What a gift! A ramshackle little cat who was not only orphaned, but deaf! Well, so was Barbara. What a pair.
