This morning before church, we saw a baby bird in one of our front flower beds. It still had the baby fluff feathers and was sitting quietly. Obviously the time had come for it to be kicked out of the nest. I love watching birds learn to fly, so I figured my young girls would too.
I promptly got them back out of the car so they could come see the cute little bird and hear the process of learning to fly. Gotta grab those educational moments while you can. *wink* They were fascinated.
Fast forward a few hours...
Baby Bird has moved to the center of a brick walkway. Only a few feet from where he was last seen. Only this time, its legs are strangely bent in unnatural directions; it wasn't moving as it should. I knew immediately something was wrong. Yes, I know. Power of deduction is a forte of mine.
Suddenly this little creature had the attention of our entire family. Well, minus the infant. My tender-hearted husband even talked about finding its nest and placing it back in so its mother could take care of it. But we couldn't find the nest. So he opted to give it something to drink, being that it had been out in the heat of the day for hours. He held it gently in his gloved hand, trying to coax it to drink from the dropper, but its neck flung around uncontrollably. Seconds after I took a picture of "Daddy saving bird", it died.
Charis, my 4 year old, burst into tears. "It died?" She was broken-hearted. As was I, admittedly. I've always hated to see things suffer. Especially something so cute as this. (insert: I had absolutely NO issues killing the snakes though! ...that story is to come)
After crying and crying, she composed herself enough to ask, "Will its mommy be sad?" THIS was the heart of my daughters sadness. Not that the bird died, but that it left behind family. Even last week, as I was showing her a documentary on seals, there came a part of the video where a sealion attacked one and ate it. Immediately she started to cry (I had no idea that scene was in there!). But she didn't grieve that the sea lion ATE the seal, as you would assume since it was a rather bloody scene. But she asked, "Was it a MOMMY seal?!"
I lied, as most clueless parents do in the heat of a traumatic moment that has taken you off guard. "No. it wasn't a mommy. In fact, that seal didn't have any family at all." I smiled, thinking that she would catch my sarcasm. But she didn't. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and took a deep breath. "It didn't?" "Uh? No." "Oh...okay." And that was that.
But she knew that this baby bird had a mommy. I was the one that told her SHE pushed the, now, victimized bird out of the nest this morning. *big sigh*
So as I hold her tight and try to console her, my mind goes in 10 different directions. What could I say to ease her pain? I blurt out, "We could bury it so other animals don't eat it." Fresh, explosive sobs. Okay. Wrong thing to say. Even as I was saying it, I knew the whole "other animals eating it" bit was wrong, but the words wouldn't stop flying out of my mouth. Thank God that she stopped and said, "In a little box?" She actually smiled. Ahh yes. That's my girl, helping mommy get her food out of her mouth. "Yes! In a box."
So THAT heart issue taken care of, she, without giving me a moment to recover said, "Is that how I'M going to lay down when I'm dead?" Oh Lord...give me wisdom.
It's not that this whole "question death" scenerio is new to us. She's been at it for at least a few months now. It possibly started when we lost a baby last year (4 months pregnant). She knew the baby was in there...we had talked about it for a long time. And she knew when the baby died. At that point, questions started to emerge. But it wasn't until the past 4 months or so that she really started to verbalize them: questions about death and heaven and who is in heaven.
It's the last one, the who is in heaven, that she usually attacks with a passionate curiosity. One day, she asked who she'd see in heaven. So I started to list off some people "...and Papa (my granddaddy) is in heaven..."
IMMEDIATELY, tears well up in her eyes. Her lower lip juts out. "Papa?" She takes a deep breath to try and control the sob that I can tell is about to come forth. "But I LOVE Papa." My mind goes crazy...she's never met my Papa...what in the world? OHHHH! Finally, I clue in and realize that she thinks I'm talking about Don S., the beloved man at church that she calls Papa. I make sure she knows that Don has not died and will, in fact, be waiting for their weekly hug on Sunday.
Oh how the depths of a little girl's heart knows NO limit. God, help me to not crush that. But to nuture it. YET, at the same time, to teach her how to know the difference between whining/manipulation. and crying because of a truly broken heart.
I promptly got them back out of the car so they could come see the cute little bird and hear the process of learning to fly. Gotta grab those educational moments while you can. *wink* They were fascinated.
Fast forward a few hours...
Baby Bird has moved to the center of a brick walkway. Only a few feet from where he was last seen. Only this time, its legs are strangely bent in unnatural directions; it wasn't moving as it should. I knew immediately something was wrong. Yes, I know. Power of deduction is a forte of mine.
Suddenly this little creature had the attention of our entire family. Well, minus the infant. My tender-hearted husband even talked about finding its nest and placing it back in so its mother could take care of it. But we couldn't find the nest. So he opted to give it something to drink, being that it had been out in the heat of the day for hours. He held it gently in his gloved hand, trying to coax it to drink from the dropper, but its neck flung around uncontrollably. Seconds after I took a picture of "Daddy saving bird", it died.
Charis, my 4 year old, burst into tears. "It died?" She was broken-hearted. As was I, admittedly. I've always hated to see things suffer. Especially something so cute as this. (insert: I had absolutely NO issues killing the snakes though! ...that story is to come)
After crying and crying, she composed herself enough to ask, "Will its mommy be sad?" THIS was the heart of my daughters sadness. Not that the bird died, but that it left behind family. Even last week, as I was showing her a documentary on seals, there came a part of the video where a sealion attacked one and ate it. Immediately she started to cry (I had no idea that scene was in there!). But she didn't grieve that the sea lion ATE the seal, as you would assume since it was a rather bloody scene. But she asked, "Was it a MOMMY seal?!"
I lied, as most clueless parents do in the heat of a traumatic moment that has taken you off guard. "No. it wasn't a mommy. In fact, that seal didn't have any family at all." I smiled, thinking that she would catch my sarcasm. But she didn't. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and took a deep breath. "It didn't?" "Uh? No." "Oh...okay." And that was that.
But she knew that this baby bird had a mommy. I was the one that told her SHE pushed the, now, victimized bird out of the nest this morning. *big sigh*
So as I hold her tight and try to console her, my mind goes in 10 different directions. What could I say to ease her pain? I blurt out, "We could bury it so other animals don't eat it." Fresh, explosive sobs. Okay. Wrong thing to say. Even as I was saying it, I knew the whole "other animals eating it" bit was wrong, but the words wouldn't stop flying out of my mouth. Thank God that she stopped and said, "In a little box?" She actually smiled. Ahh yes. That's my girl, helping mommy get her food out of her mouth. "Yes! In a box."
So THAT heart issue taken care of, she, without giving me a moment to recover said, "Is that how I'M going to lay down when I'm dead?" Oh Lord...give me wisdom.
It's not that this whole "question death" scenerio is new to us. She's been at it for at least a few months now. It possibly started when we lost a baby last year (4 months pregnant). She knew the baby was in there...we had talked about it for a long time. And she knew when the baby died. At that point, questions started to emerge. But it wasn't until the past 4 months or so that she really started to verbalize them: questions about death and heaven and who is in heaven.
It's the last one, the who is in heaven, that she usually attacks with a passionate curiosity. One day, she asked who she'd see in heaven. So I started to list off some people "...and Papa (my granddaddy) is in heaven..."
IMMEDIATELY, tears well up in her eyes. Her lower lip juts out. "Papa?" She takes a deep breath to try and control the sob that I can tell is about to come forth. "But I LOVE Papa." My mind goes crazy...she's never met my Papa...what in the world? OHHHH! Finally, I clue in and realize that she thinks I'm talking about Don S., the beloved man at church that she calls Papa. I make sure she knows that Don has not died and will, in fact, be waiting for their weekly hug on Sunday.
Oh how the depths of a little girl's heart knows NO limit. God, help me to not crush that. But to nuture it. YET, at the same time, to teach her how to know the difference between whining/manipulation. and crying because of a truly broken heart.
There are those people that say being a parent is a cake walk. I'm yet to be invited to that tea party.
2 comments:
Who says being a parent is a cake walk and what are THEY smoking??
I'm glad right now that kisses and clean diapers are what my son needs. I'm sure it takes a LOT of new wisdom once the questions begin!
Joseph was looking at the picture of the bird and I told him what happened to it. He thought for a second and asked "Can it come back to life?" No, honey it's dead. "but Jesus made people come back to life, does it only work with people?" Ahhh.... the questions of a 4 year old.
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