Even the Sparrow
When you are a child and an animal lover, heartbreak is inevitable. Is there a love more pure than a child’s for an animal?
The lives of our pets are nearly guaranteed to be shorter than our own. When an animal you love leaves you at such a tender age, the grief is very real.
There are several stories in my childhood of animals passing. The first introduction I truly had with death was when my beloved, elderly hen lost her life at the hands of a suspected coyote. This hen was a timid darling, always allowing five-year-old Rose to move her from place to place outside.
I remember the morning my dad waking me up and telling me she had died. I don’t remember feeling suffocating grief. I didn’t quite know death. I was only five.
But as years passed, and as we housed more animals, death became a part of life.
The death that most affected me was the passing of Bo, our beloved Labrador. He had been injured and died of complications related to his accident. His body rose and fell with the last breath he took on our way to the vet.
My father, one of the main religious figures in my life, directed a short service to honor Bo. Bo was buried under a tree in our back yard. The grief was too much for me. I didn’t attend the service with my family, and instead said goodbye to Bo privately.
My father took the time to share this verse with me, one that I’ve kept with me.
“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.” Matthew 10:29
In essence, my father was telling me that God knew Bo, loved Bo, and that Bo was safe.
Last winter, I was driving on the highway when my car hit a small bird. I was nearly home.
I couldn’t keep myself from turning the car around. I drove to the spot where I had made impact. I found him (or her, I’ll never know), still alive. I knew that saving its life wasn’t practical, but I could keep him warm and comfortable.
He passed in my lap on the way home. I cried. I texted my husband.
The same verse came to mind.
Not one of them will fall without God knowing.
As I’ve grown a little older, death becomes more and more familiar. I expect that I’ll get to know death a little more as time passes.
When an animal on our small farm dies, I take it in with a mix of practicality and sadness. But I hold in my heart the notion that each living creature has value.
And someone notices each time they leave us.
