Sunday, August 06, 2006

A Servant's Heart

Whenever I speak of the Queen, I paint pictures of a girl who is known for her theatrics. She is known as the Drama Queen around this house, feigning near death when she stubs her toe.

However, underneath that outward persona lies a heart that is easily broken.

There was a little squirrel who made himself fat on a seed bell that the Queen had placed out on our tree. She loved to watch that little guy eat his way through that bell. She would marvel at how fast he would eat, and how much seed he would drop on the ground.

This squirrel was known to hide out in our garage, and then make a dash for the bell whenever he had the chance. He grew quite fat, and he really was a sweet little guy.

Coming home from my parents' house after our Fourth of July get together this year, we rounded the corner and there, in the middle of the street, was her squirrel. She immediately knew it was hers by the amount of fat that was on this little guy's body. He had probably been killed by a car minutes before we came home.

Queen had her face pressed up against the glass of the van's window, and she said "Oh no.... I hope that isn't my squirrel. Oh Mommy ... that IS my squirrel." Tears started streaming down her face as the reality sunk in that her little buddy was now gone.

"Mommy ... where do squirrels go? Do they go to heaven?"

Being taken off guard by the fact that we had death right there in our faces and were having to deal with it right then, I told her that I was sure there was a special place in heaven for all the little squirrels who had been hit by cars.

As soon as we pulled into the driveway, Queen knew she couldn't stand to see the squirrel's body in the road any longer, so she asked Ace if he could bury the squirrel. Ace really didn't want to, but Queen insisted, big tears in her eyes.

Ace retrieved the shovel from the garage and Queen chose the place where she wanted her squirrel laid to rest. Ace dug a hole, and Queen took a trowel and dug up a marigold that we had planted in a pot just days before. She asked Ace to plant the flower over the squirrel, just so he could have something beautiful to mark his short presence in this world.


I have placed this blog entry in the Pass the Torch Contest.

To read the rules of this contest, click on the button below!


8 Comments:

Blogger Mamacita Tina said...

Sad, sweet story. Shows how tender our little ones are.

11:24 PM  
Blogger Susan Stephenson said...

I feel for your little Queen - but it's great she could say goodbye in a special way for her.

12:11 AM  
Blogger Pass The Torch said...

It's a darling story. Thank you for sharing it in the contest. Your little queen is an excellent example of someone we'll all pass the torch to some day.

12:18 AM  
Blogger Susan (5 Minutes For Mom) said...

That is so sweet. I am sorry for your little girl's loss... I hope that she got over it.

(I came here via Pass the Torch.)

3:45 AM  
Anonymous MInTheGap said...

It's something for a child to be able to reach beyond cares for themselves and show compassion to someone or something else. Thanks for the story!

2:40 PM  
Blogger Lisa said...

That is so sweet, and so sad at the same time. I hope you have a great week. Off to pass the torch now to vote!!!

4:46 PM  
Blogger Pass The Torch said...

Congratulations! The votes are in and your story received the second-greatest number of votes! I've decided to award the Pass the Torch button to the top three vote-getters. So email me and I'll send you the code.

Way to go!!

5:57 PM  
Blogger TC said...

What a sweet sad story!

10:13 PM  

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The Lovely She, that is me!

I'm a mom of three peeps ... Queen Bee, The Door Man, and the Chandelier Monkey, and wife to Ace, the Helpful Hardware Man. I created this space to get away from the people known as my inlaws, and because life with three kids and a hubby is all Unexplored Territory.

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The nine-year-old who seems to be growing older every minute, has an opinion and a comment for everything, and has a true servant's heart.
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The seven-year-old who loves the organization of things, will someday be someone's therapist because of his kind soul, and will more than likely be living with us until he is 40 years old.
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The five-year-old with the 13-year-old attitude, who has a dictator's personality, asks you to watch her all the time and say "hold on" to keep your attention, and will someday come home on the back of some dude's motorcycle with 10 tatts and a body piercing or two.

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The man of the house, the fixer of things, the winner of prizes, and the only person in his family to escape the South.

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