Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

faith & spirituality

What you don't know can hurt

“Feeling bad doesn’t help anything. Now you know for next time.”

Her words, though gentle, stung like a slap to the face. I sat, remorseful, at her dining room table as she fed a baby squirrel with a syringe. I marveled at the baby-like movements of the squirrel, whose front paws reached for the life-giving liquid.

So like a human baby.

My guilt was almost tangible. I could have done more. I could have acted sooner.

I watched the critter cling to life and I wanted to cry.

We’d found her curled up near our porch Saturday night, and as she scampered around in search of food and her mama, my faith in the ways of nature was strong.

squirrel 1

We shouldn’t bother it, I told the kids. It knows what to do.

Even now the words pierce my soul. Cleverly disguised lies.

Truthfully, I didn’t want to get involved. So I convinced myself I didn’t have to.

Another day passed and the squirrel spent most of it curled in a ball, trying to keep warm.

My thoughts began to shift: What could I do anyway, even if I wanted to help?

By Monday morning, we thought we’d lost her. Later, she moved some, but she was sluggish.

squirrel 2

“We can’t watch it die,” my husband said. I agreed, but I still felt powerless. What did I know about caring for a wild animal?

So, I did what I should have done earlier. I Googled “abandoned baby squirrel.” But even in finding a helpful Website, I hesitated.

Bring it in the house? Pick it up? Feed it Pedialyte?

Lord, I can’t do that.

I placed a call to a wildlife rescue center in a neighboring county and waited. I tried to distract myself with dishes and cleaning but I couldn’t concentrate.

Life hung in the balance right outside my kitchen door. How could I pretend otherwise? <Click to tweet>

I started searching the house for a box, and I wondered if we even had a dropper. Our kids are way past the baby and dropper stage, and I was pretty sure we were ill-equipped to handle a situation like this.

My husband got home from an errand, and we sprang to action, feeling it was better to do something than nothing.

We were about to attempt a feeding when the wildlife rescuer called back and gave me the number to the closest rescuer to us. We would need to bring the squirrel in. It was beyond our ability to help.

We prepped the box. My husband gently lifted the squirrel and placed it in, adding a warm water bottle. He fashioned a lid with air holes. We were going to wait until our daughter got off the bus, but I felt an urgency I couldn’t explain.

So, I left my husband at home to wait for the bus, and my son and I got in the van and drove nearly an hour to the squirrel rescuer’s house.

I prayed the whole way. Please let it be alive. I imagined the horror of delivering a dead squirrel to a rescuer. Only later did I find it funny in a strange way that I was praying for the life of a squirrel.

Miss Janie made us no promises. We might have been too late. I’ll e-mail her in a day or two to find out if the squirrel survived. The possibility that she might not hurts my heart.

But this experience has taught me some valuable lessons and has given me some thoughts and beliefs to wrestle with.

  • Believing God created the world and all that’s in it isn’t enough. If I believe He created the world and animals and people, shouldn’t I also care about taking care of those things?
  • If I think of it as “just” a squirrel with no purpose or plan in the world, then how long before I start thinking, oh it’s “just” a homeless man or it’s “just” a bunch of kids on the other side of the world. I think about what’s happening to the bee population and how that will affect all of us. We are not isolated from the rest of creation, man or animal.
  • I don’t have to save everything and everyone but I need to be available to whatever and whoever crosses my path. God didn’t ask me to save whales or dolphins. He let a squirrel fall from a tree in my yard. That doesn’t mean I have to get my wildlife rescue license. It just means I have to do what I can where I am.
  • Rescue is always risky. <click to tweet> The squirrel might have had fleas. It could have decided to bite one of us. It might still die. But it was worth it.
  • Because driving the squirrel to the rescuer’s house was the most energized I’d felt in a while. I had a mission, a purpose, even if it was brief. Every day can be like that if I have the right mindset.
  • It’s possible to worship the Creator through His creation without idolizing the created. But I’m still wrestling with how to live this out. I like to eat meat. I’m not suggesting no one ever hunt animals or that we try to make a world where no one or nothing ever dies. I just think in a lot of ways, we humans can do better.
  • The world is full of unsung heroes. Miss Janie is one of them. Our squirrel was the 354th animal brought to her since March. Her den was full of cages of squirrels and a couple of opossums. She has given her life to rescuing animals. Her passion inspires me.

This morning, we saw another squirrel in the tree. It was bigger with a bushier tail than the one we rescued. Janie told us to be on the lookout for more young squirrels because the nests have two or three most of the time. It terrifies me to think that I might have to rescue another squirrel. But, God help me, I’m keeping my eyes open.

If you find yourself in the same situation, Google “wildlife rescue” and look for a link to your state’s list of animal rescuers. I never knew I’d need that knowledge, but now I have the number saved in my phone. I may not know what to do, but I have a direct line to someone who does.

I’m sad that I’m so far removed from Adam, whom God tasked as caregiver for creation, that I don’t know what to do with an animal.

And this I know: I’ll never look at a squirrel the same way again.

How to face your fears and live to tell about it

I saw a comic this morning before I left the house. A caped girl, called Anxiety Girl, was described as “able to jump to the worst possible conclusion in a single bound.”

I laughed.

And then I proved her words true for my life.

I went grocery shopping with my son, and after our first stop, I realized that the money that should be available to us for food every month (we qualify for food stamps), hadn’t processed yet this month. It was okay for today, but I started panicking. What if it doesn’t come at all? What if there’s been a mistake? What if …?

We bought what we needed. And we are not in danger of starvation.

Yet, I feared.

***

Before we moved, my son wanted nothing to do with dogs. A former neighbor’s dog was loud and sometimes mean, and we’d had a few run-ins with some unfriendly, unleashed dogs that struck fear in all of us: dad, mom and kids.

Even gentle dogs, puppies, he would shy away from.

Then we moved to a new place and our neighbors here have dogs, two big ones we often see in the backyard when they’re out to do their doggy business.

And I wondered if it was only a matter of time before a dog bite. Or if my kids would always be afraid of dogs and if there was any way to help them overcome it.

***

train tracks

Train tracks sometimes scare me. Even when there are gates. My heart catches in my throat as I imagine getting stuck on the tracks when a train is coming and being unable to move from its path. Maybe I watched Stand By Me one too many times as a kid or heard one too many stories about train-versus-car accidents. For whatever reason, crossing train tracks is an anxiety-inducing experience.

The first time we made the trip from our new house to my husband’s work, we crossed a set of tracks that have no gates, no lights.

And I feared the crossing every time we made the trip, twice a day or more.

***

Here’s the thing about fears and anxiety: it’s a really crummy way to live.

I’m no expert or professional on the subject, but I’m learning that for some fears and some anxieties, there is a way to meet them head on and live to tell about it.

***

A year ago, our food budget was almost non-existent. We’d been disqualified from food stamps due to a law change at the same time my husband was out of school and looking for full-time work. Some months, we spent $20 at the discount grocery and made it work. We ate a lot of PB&J and pasta. We also had some very generous friends who helped us out.

Ever since I watched The Pursuit of Happyness, that Will Smith movie where he and his son are homeless and just trying to get by and get out of that situation, I’ve feared being homeless and hungry. We were never in danger of either, but that season of leanness taught me to trust. God. People. Even my own resourcefulness to make a meal out of practically nothing.

***

On Saturday, we went to our local library branch for a program with reading assistance dogs. It was our third time visiting the library for this. A local couple brings in their greyhounds and the kids can sit on the floor and read or show books to them. The first time we went, my son was scared. He didn’t want to sit anywhere near them or leave my lap. Each time, he’s gotten more comfortable with the dogs. This time, he was almost more excited than his sister to go see the dogs. Now he’ll sit on the floor by them and let his monkey pet them when he leaves.

And we’ve been outside enough times when the neighbor dogs are out to know that the owners have a good handle on the dogs. They’ve never even approached us and they listen well.

Not all dogs are vicious. Not all dog owners are lax. We don’t have to fear all dogs. Experience is teaching us that fear denies us opportunities to learn and grow. These greyhounds are so gentle and special. Had we continued in our fear of dogs, we’d have missed out on a great relationship with them and their owners.

***

Every time I approached the unmarked tracks, I slowed the car and looked both ways and gunned it across. Then I began to notice that other cars paid the crossing almost no attention at all. They didn’t slow. They barely glanced. They just crossed. I wondered if the tracks were no longer in use, although I didn’t see a sign that said that. So, I took after the other cars and started crossing at normal speed.

Then one day, I saw the lights of a train farther down the track. Another day, I saw the back of a train going around the curve.

Not a dead track, after all. But the trains were moving slow, so I figured the chances of my car being hit by a train were slim.

Finally, we came upon the tracks one day when a train was moving around the corner. The conductor blew the whistle loudly and frequently as it approached and all the cars stopped on either side of the tracks. It was then that I realized that if the conductor was doing his job, I would hear the train long before it was dangerous to cross. And I wasn’t likely to miss the sound of the whistle.

Others who have traveled this road frequently must have known this. Now, I know it, too.

And I’m less afraid of crossing the unmarked tracks.

***

Not all fears are the same. I get that. Not all anxieties are the same. Some are deeply rooted in painful experiences and require professional and medical help. I’m not offering a one-size-fits-all solution.

But I wonder if some of our fears and anxieties can be overcome by some of these things I’ve learned:

  • by experiencing the thing you fear. It could be that what I fear isn’t as bad as I think it could be.
  • by building relationships and trusting other people. Positive experiences and relationships might counteract the negative ones that cause me fear.
  • by learning from others’ example. My kids learn from me what to fear and what not to fear. Could I not do the same with more experienced peers?

Trust me when I say that I don’t have the anxiety thing all figured out. I still find my heart rate increasing when I’m in a crowd or trying to navigate the grocery aisles with two kids on a busy day. I still fear the worst when things don’t go as I expect.

But I don’t want to spend my life living in fear.

So, I’m learning. Or trying to.

Tell me, how do you overcome your fears? What ways have you found to send anxiety to the sidelines?