06.24.08
Lame-ification
I wasn’t feeling well yesterday, so I went home instead of doing things I’d otherwise committed to doing. (Sometimes, one has to just throw in the towel and call it a day.) The plan was to go home, cook the cutlets I had in the fridge so they didn’t spoil like the last batch, work on a new song, and hit the bed early. As usual, my plans didn’t go as I’d hoped.
I live in a basement apartment with an outside entrance. To get to my front door, you have to descend four or five stairs, and at the bottom is a landing, roughly 3×3. I opened the gate and went down the steps, only to be greeted by a little sparrow, not a baby, yet not much of an adult (even for a sparrow). I said hello, as is customary when you have an unexpected guest, and for a moment thought he might just be an extra friendly little guy, but I quickly noticed that he was hopping around, not making much of an effort to fly. I brought the groceries inside and went back out to observe him, a little nervous he might invite himself inside and suddenly regain his flight. He didn’t. Instead, he tried (in vain) to conquer the first step. He just couldn’t make it. I spent some time with him, hoping he’d get used to me, and he actually did. He stopped hopping around and just sat, exasperated and depressed. And of course, I got all lame and emotional.
I went inside and called every vet/humane society/animal control I could find and none of them would take my call, citing the late hour (6:30pm?). One person suggested I just leave the bird, but of course I couldn’t bring myself to that.
I found a shoebox (a really big one) and, sporadically calling my mother for advice or reassurance, I poked holes in it, laid down some towel, a water dish, and a little food bowl. Then I went to the store to get various seeds, after learning that sparrows, thankfully, do not eat worms. (My sympathy and caretaking do have a limit, and that limit is worms.) Anyway, after making a sick bay for the bird, I finally set out to pick him up. He made a little “tweet” just once, but was very well-behaved once I had hold of him. He hardly moved when I put him in his little bed, so I thought I’d leave him to get adjusted. I returned fifteen or twenty minutes later, and he was still complacent where I’d left him. It was maybe an hour or two later when I found him trying to burrow himself under the food bowl. I moved it, and found he was shaking rather forcefully. Of course, I knew there was nothing I could do, and I hated that.
Well, little Birdy didn’t make it. He had another fifteen minutes or so in him from there. The thing is, I’m still a little upset about it. Lame, yes, I know, but no one told you to read this far so if you’re here, try to bear with me for a moment. I’m trying to understand why I care at all about this little bird, why it was upsetting that he didn’t make it.
I find the trace brings me back to God. Seriously, think about this. God created all living things, and He does not want death for any of them. He made us in His image, which does not necessarily mean that we look like God, rather, that we share countless similarities with Him. These similarities are not all physical, as God is not all physical, so to be in His image must mean to be more than just a carbon-copy of an old bearded man (just one of the popular portrayals of God in art). So it is fitting that when something dies — anything — we should feel sadness, loss, etc, because we — being His image — also do not want death for any living thing. Of course, this brings up the popular, “Well, what about the insect you just stomped”. Look, I don’t have all the answers. But I can say this: Most regard insects as enemies; they attack us rather than defend themselves, whereas a sparrow may peck at my hand, but only out of self-defense. And in line with this whole image of God theory, God strikes down His enemies. Yes, our God has redeemed us. But do not think for a minute that those who adamently oppose Him — that is, show no love, respect, or acknowledgement of Him as superior to all — will see the same salvation. It is offered to them; it is their choice to take it or not. So long as one chooses to be His enemy, only death with no end can be the result. So it is with our natural “enemies”; we will kill bugs or animals that threaten our “sovereignty” on Earth, if you will. If cockroaches and bed bugs and the like would simply not invade my space, chew on my ankles, or contaminate my food, we would probably get along much better. They would no longer be a threat, and I would have no reason to call them enemies. The sparrow, who does not attack, can be reached by the grace of men. Bed bugs who bite, cannot. So it is also with the ways of God, Whose grace is beyond anything we can imagine.
All of that to say that I’m a little sad for Birdy today. Look at that: He even got a name.
