I found this recently. It was written by a 14-year old boy, in 1991, as he recalled a memory from when he was 9 years old. I have copied it here, word-for-word...
TO UNDERSTAND my story thoroughly, you need a little bit of background. I spent a large part of my childhood in the farm state of Nebraska. One thing commonly seen in Nebraska is cane-bails. Cane-bails are huge, round, tightly rolled bundles of cane. They are made during the summer so the farmers can use it to feed the livestock during the winter, when everything is covered in snow. Each cane-bail is about five feet in diameter and 6 feet in height. When they are stacked they tend to make a castle that can be up to 18 feet high....
"SON, did you do this?!!" shouted my father as he discovered something I had done wrong. "It wasn't me, Dad...it was my brother."
"Now why would your brother do this? I want it cleaned up now!"
AFTER THE JOB was done I bolted out of my house with speed of lightning. I was running fast and hard, trampling the ground with each step being more powerful than the one before. When the run of about 200 yards was completed I finally reached my destination. As I clutched my knees with my hands and gasped for air, I pleaded my lungs and the air to restore my energy. I fell against one of the massive cane-bails and gazed out into the snow-glazed pasture as the sun set gently behind the horizon with a grace that was incomparable.
NOTHING WAS MORE relaxing and stress-relieving than this place on our farm in the heart of Nebraska. The snow acted as a plush carpet beneath my cold body. I snuggled into the cane. It acted as warm arms wrapping around me, comforting me in the hardest and most frustrating of times. I sat and thought often that this is what heaven looks like. Nothing but snow stretched as far as the eye could see. It clothed the ground perfectly, covering every weed, molding every stone, and providing an astonishing sight that would take anyone's breath away. This wasn't something to be associated with Santa's Workshop in the snow. This was something far greater. Greater than I (and I am sure, most people) can comprehend. An occasional deer would pass by with a fawn running furtively behind. They ran across the snow, galloping as if to music, as they stretched off beyond the point where I could see. I nestled further into the bail, feeling even more secure and invincible than before. New startling sights opened up as I changed position slightly. Now it was a scene of even more beauty. The sunlight still peeking over the horizon acted as a linen sheet of gold, lacing the entire blanket of snow. If only the world could be watching this. I did feel, though, that this was mine, and God had set this sight aside for me, and only me. A lump developed slowly in my throat as I gazed into the snow as if I were gazing into someone's eyes.
LOOKING UP at a tree, I watched the last leaf fly side to side for what seemed an endless amount of time, until it struck the snow delicately. Yet it was powerful the way it landed; Powerful in the sense that it had made an impact-- an impact on me, and anyone who has seen such a sight....there was this leaf, without a care in the world. It was only there to bring a sense of contentment and peace upon me. It was only there for me to see.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
A Bird In the Hand Is Worth What?
I got up a little later than usual today. Shaking off the fog of sleep, I did what I always do first -- made my bed. As I went around to the other side of the bed I heard my cat romping in the living room. Looking through the entry into the living room I saw him joyfully throwing something up in the air. (He often does this with his toys....he loves to play catch with himself...it's really cute to watch.)
So I got dressed for the gym, went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I smiled as I heard Stewie (my cat) playing with his toy. Time for a light breakfast before heading to the gym for a much-needed workout, so I walked into the living room, seeing Stewie rolling around on the floor with his toy....Wait a minute! The "toy" definitely fluttered. Stewie dropped it and stood there looking at his toy. It lay very still now. Looking more closely, I saw that it was a tiny bird - a REAL bird. It was just barely alive.
I was horrified. Stew had brought a truly-dead bird into our home just a week ago. I had wrapped up that little guy in a paper towel and put him in the trash bin outside. It was pretty upsetting!
But this was worse. The little thing was still breathing, but not moving. I picked him up gently and looked at him (her?) There was no visible blood or other wound. Thinking that this little bird would surely die, I wrapped him up carefully and placed him in the waste basket under my kitchen sink. I thought he would just quietly die there, unmolested by my cat. I'd think more about it as I exercised, and figure out whether or not I needed to do something else with his remains. Then, with some reluctance, I went to the gym.
After my workout I went to the grocery store, remembering several items that were needed. Small baggies seemed like a good idea. Then I drove home and immediately went to the kitchen to check-on the bird. The cupboard door was ajar. "Oh no!" I thought.....Stew must have found him and eaten him..... oh yuck! Then I saw movement inside the waste basket and a definite fluttering of wings. He was alive!!!
Once again I picked him up, and he lay perfectly still in my hands. What to do with him? I decided to let him go, but needed to be sure it wasn't anywhere near "Stewie the bird cat." So I walked outside, crossed the parking lot and beyond the cars into a grassy area bordered by a tall, vine-covered wall and thick trees on the other side. I tossed him as far as I could, expecting to hear the impact of his landing on the other side. But, to my amazement and joy, the moment he left my hands he began to fly. He didn't look injured at all. I guess he was just stunned by being held captive first by a cat, then put in the trash by a human. He flew beautifully, up, up, up, over the trees, disappearing from my sight.
That was one tough little bird! I'm not sure what, if anything, I learned from this experience. I will need to really ponder this awhile. It did make me think, immediately, of some very wounded people I know. People who have been severely tossed around in life. They are scarred and afraid, and at times seem to have no life left in them.......but perhaps that's not true. Maybe they will "fly again." We need to not give up on people who are wounded by life - whether with physical illness, or overwhelming depression. I hope I will always handle them gently, remembering the little bird today.
So I got dressed for the gym, went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I smiled as I heard Stewie (my cat) playing with his toy. Time for a light breakfast before heading to the gym for a much-needed workout, so I walked into the living room, seeing Stewie rolling around on the floor with his toy....Wait a minute! The "toy" definitely fluttered. Stewie dropped it and stood there looking at his toy. It lay very still now. Looking more closely, I saw that it was a tiny bird - a REAL bird. It was just barely alive.
I was horrified. Stew had brought a truly-dead bird into our home just a week ago. I had wrapped up that little guy in a paper towel and put him in the trash bin outside. It was pretty upsetting!
But this was worse. The little thing was still breathing, but not moving. I picked him up gently and looked at him (her?) There was no visible blood or other wound. Thinking that this little bird would surely die, I wrapped him up carefully and placed him in the waste basket under my kitchen sink. I thought he would just quietly die there, unmolested by my cat. I'd think more about it as I exercised, and figure out whether or not I needed to do something else with his remains. Then, with some reluctance, I went to the gym.
After my workout I went to the grocery store, remembering several items that were needed. Small baggies seemed like a good idea. Then I drove home and immediately went to the kitchen to check-on the bird. The cupboard door was ajar. "Oh no!" I thought.....Stew must have found him and eaten him..... oh yuck! Then I saw movement inside the waste basket and a definite fluttering of wings. He was alive!!!
Once again I picked him up, and he lay perfectly still in my hands. What to do with him? I decided to let him go, but needed to be sure it wasn't anywhere near "Stewie the bird cat." So I walked outside, crossed the parking lot and beyond the cars into a grassy area bordered by a tall, vine-covered wall and thick trees on the other side. I tossed him as far as I could, expecting to hear the impact of his landing on the other side. But, to my amazement and joy, the moment he left my hands he began to fly. He didn't look injured at all. I guess he was just stunned by being held captive first by a cat, then put in the trash by a human. He flew beautifully, up, up, up, over the trees, disappearing from my sight.
That was one tough little bird! I'm not sure what, if anything, I learned from this experience. I will need to really ponder this awhile. It did make me think, immediately, of some very wounded people I know. People who have been severely tossed around in life. They are scarred and afraid, and at times seem to have no life left in them.......but perhaps that's not true. Maybe they will "fly again." We need to not give up on people who are wounded by life - whether with physical illness, or overwhelming depression. I hope I will always handle them gently, remembering the little bird today.
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