My sweet little Noah has been blessed with the gift of compassion. He has a love for all things living, and would never have it in him to harm even a fly. He can often be found out in the backyard turning over rocks looking for lizards, frogs, slugs, beetles, you name it. No matter how gnarly the creature, he will love it and want it for a pet.
Well, today he and Kaitlyn were out back looking under the spa cover for frogs and such. I overheard them talking that they had found a bee, and that it had landed on Noah. I felt within me that I should go out and warn them not to handle it, but disregarded the prompting and went about folding my laundry.
Not two minutes later I heard Noah come in the through the back door, crying. I knew immediately what had happened. He headed up to my bedroom, sobbing, and with the utmost sincerity and feeling of insult exclaimed:
"It stung me... on purpose!"
He was so offended and couldn't understand why the bee would do such a thing. After all, he was only trying to rescue it from drowning in the spa water. As I ran his finger under cold water, he looked up at me through tears with searching eyes. I had to explain that the bee felt threatened and was only doing what it knew to protect itself, and that maybe it wasn't a good idea to pick up the bee with his bare hand. He understood.
My poor Noah with a bleeding heart. Why is life so unjust?
No comments:
Post a Comment