Before I Croak

“Sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvelous things.” Psalm 98:1

I was out watering my plants the other day. Although the Pacific Northwest has a reputation for being damp and rainy, the fact is we don’t receive nearly as much rain around here as folks think, and this summer, in particular, has been one of the drier summers on record. Consequently, we head out every couple of days to see to it that the greenery stays that way.

I keep telling my better half that we ought to put in drought-resistant plants, but she has no desire to see silk or plastic flowers in the yard, so I guess we’ll have to settle for live botanical specimens – the real deal, as she calls them. 

I don’t mind watering, to be honest. It is one of those tasks that doesn’t require a lot of brain-power, and there is something meditative about dragging a hose around the yard from the spigot to our botanical family and seeing to it that each plant or bush receives what it needs. Someday we may invest in an automatic sprinkling system, but where’s the fun in that? It’s nice moving about the grounds, talking to the plants and critters. On top of that, they never talk back. Now THAT’s a real blessing!

Despite our relatively urban setting, we do have some wildlife popping in from time to time. A week ago I was getting my morning coffee. It was still relatively dark; I looked out the kitchen window and observed a couple of raccoons wandering around the backyard looking for incredible edibles. I’m no Dr. Dolittle, so I made no effort to converse with them. I didn’t want to frighten them away. I just sipped my coffee and watched them wander from plant to bush to stump doing their particular form of grocery shopping. 

It’s funny how we think. I find myself writing about the wildlife popping into “our” space, as if it’s they that don’t belong. This house and neighborhood have only been here the past three or four decades. The “wildlife” have been here for hundreds of thousands of years. Which of us is the one that “doesn’t belong,” eh?

How else are we to think, though? I suspect raccoons see the world through their own lenses, as do the deer, blue jays, squirrels, and every creature great and small. I have one bush out back that is home to at least one smallish frog. It does NOT like it when I water his or her home. It leaps out from under the leaves, into the open (where I’m sure it does not want to be), and does a frantic little froggy pirouette to see where it can go to either get out of the artificial rain or back under cover. It’s not my intention to disturb its abode, but it doesn’t care what my intentions are. I’m sure, in fact, it wishes I would just croak.

I find nature fascinating. Aside from the odd class here and there in school (back when the earth was still cooling), I wasn’t too much into biology or the other earth sciences, but I am now. I guess that means I am reaching a point in life where some may say, “he’s older than dirt,” and I hear it not as a put-down, but as a scientific fact. The earth and I are related – my own theory of relativity (Move over, Einstein!).

I don’t know if anyone else thinks about such things, but I do. I’ll admit I don’t want mice, ants, or spiders invading my indoor spaces, but I am striving to be more of a friend than a pest when spending time outdoors. My hope is that, when I wander about the great out-of-doors, all of God’s creatures will sing to the Lord a new song, “for he has done marvelous things.” I hope they’ll acknowledge the effort I am making to be kind and gentle. 

When I stand before my Redeemer, it would be sweet to hear even the frogs sing, “He had a good heart. We toad [sic] him to keep the hose on a gentle setting, and he did.” At least that’s my hope here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)