As I was talking with Carolyn, she informed me that while nighttime prayers are nice and all, and she really loves spending time with me at the close of her day, she's not so sure she believes in anything at the moment and she's quite unsure how praying really helps matters. "What's the PURPOSE of it all?" she asked.
Of course I understand this! I'm a scientist and I struggle with data, proof, and repeatability all the time. Until it was debunked, I'd always loved the quote from Albert Einstein, "There are only two ways to live your life: as though nothing is a miracle, or as though everything is a miracle." (Even if he didn't say it, the older I get - the more I know there's some solid truth in those words.)
Kissing Carolyn goodnight, I told her that it was my most sincere prayer that she would receive some kind of divine gift from above that helped her to not only believe, but also - to illuminate her path for purpose.
If it seems like I'm getting more spiritual these days ... I AM. I'd like to thank our four rapidly growing children, as we navigate this gloriously beautiful, and gloriously terrifying time in life. Leading my most precious gifts through the dynamics of body changes / social pressure / social media / increasing independence - decision making - and consequences - has promulgated my swan dive right in to the deep end of the search for heavenly guidance.
So this past Saturday, while Elizabeth was out running with girls from her cross-country team; and Henry was at a Cub Scout function with Charlie, I took William and Carolyn on a long walk with the dog. We were approximately 1-mile from the house - with another 3 miles to go on our 'loop' when William exclaimed, "Look! There's a dead mouse on the sidewalk!" It took me several moments - with William nearly touching the little critter - before I could actually see it, it was so well camouflaged atop the wet concrete and scattered leaves.
My instruction to William was to pick up some sticks and gently flick it off the path so it wouldn't be stepped on - or ridden over - or chomped down by another dog out for its morning walk. As William gingerly tried to scoop it up, he paused, "Mom, I think it's still alive...!" Carolyn - our resident animal lover - went crazy. "Ohhhh, nooooo! Ohhhh, it's so tiny! Ohhhh, we have to help!"
I went over to inspect, and sure enough, I could see that it was breathing - and it's little heart beat was clearly visible, thumping away within its teeny silky frame. As I was looking at the little creature, I recognized by the larger shape of its tail that it wasn't a mouse, but more likely a baby squirrel ... so young its eyes hadn't opened up yet. Standing back, the three of us eyed the trees and looked for a tangle of branches and leaves that would indicate a drey. Surely the little one just got knocked out of the nest?
Not seeing anything obvious, we gently picked the kit up from the dark shady spot on the damp sidewalk, and placed him off the path, and next to the closest tree, which was bathed in sunlight. We then stood aside for a few minutes and waited to see what would happen. The baby squirmed in the warmth of the sun, began squeaking and opening it's tiny little mouth. It must have been a mammalian animal instinct that came over me, because this wasn't what I had in mind for Saturday morning. We had a lot to do - my mental list was at least two pages of what I'd hoped to accomplish on this day - including walking another 3 miles to close a stubborn ring on my new Apple Watch.
Nonetheless, I decided in that very moment that while I'm NOT a fan of vermin, barring the mother squirrel appearing on the scene for a fast rescue, there was absolutely no way I'd be leaving an extremely helpless and vulnerable infant all alone in nature, while hawks soared over head. Also, if this wasn't a prime example of a gift literally FROM ABOVE that might be helpful to illuminate my daughter's purpose (and passion), I'm not sure what is.
After a few more minutes, and much to my daughter's delight, I reached down and scooped up the baby and said, "Yep, it looks like he's coming home with us." I'm not sure if the kids were more surprised that I actually touched it with my bare hands - or that I scooped it close to my chest and cuddled it for a mile walk back to our house.
When we returned home, we found out that the protocol for rescuing a baby squirrel is to keep it warm, and get it to a wildlife rescue facility. And so it is, we filled a sock with rice and after microwaving it for 20 seconds, placed the little guy on top of it, which by now we'd named "Tim." We found the closest facility - fortunately it was less than 10 miles from our house - and we piled in to the car and transported Tiny Tim to his next destination. On the car ride, Carolyn was rubbing his little belly, and was in tears of absolute joy when he wrapped his entire body around her index finger.
You might imagine, she didn't want to leave him ... and was asking me in hushed whispers if she could PLEASE come back, or call and check on his progress every single day until he was released?
The people at the sanctuary informed us that Tim is a flying squirrel and as a nocturnal animal, it's very likely his mama wouldn't have found him. It made our hearts happy to think that we played a part in saving the little guy.
Our Tiny Tim was placed within an incubator, and fed glucose soon after he arrived. We were told he'll be kept with other flying squirrels and they'll be released together, in nature, within the next 2-3 months. It turns out, the facility is a 100% volunteer run organization and they welcome volunteers as early as 14-years old if a parent is present.
Yep. I bet you'll never guess what Charlie and Carolyn will be doing as part of their homeschool curriculum this spring? Gifts from above - conveniently located 15 minutes away.
God Bless us, EVERYONE!
