Tina’s concerned. There’s a centipede in distress, sprawled on the sidewalk in the rain and looking unhappy. There’s no time to rescue it now, as I’m driving Maria to work. Tina and I drop Maria off, forego any thoughts of visiting the pet shop, and arrive back home to see the creature still moving a little. We are thankful!
I suggest placing it on a dry rock under a chair in Maria’s front yard, but Tina has a better idea. She doesn’t disturb the centipede by picking it up, but gently places a piece of bark over it. Shaped so that it will not crush the little creature, the bark provides a miniature roof. The next morning the bark is in place but the centipede has vanished. Mission success!
Tommy and Lisa are out walking when they come across a disturbing sight–an earthworm barreling toward the road–and traffic! Now they come face to face with the dilemma of the budding paramedic, the conundrum of the new ER doctor, the predicament of the junior nursing student. The “touch” factor looms as they debate who is to rescue this hapless victim from his/her maniacal 27 foot per hour dash into side street traffic.
Will Tommy? No, he doesn’t want to touch it. Will Lisa? She will not. Do they leave the victim to what is, in Tommy’s mind, impending doom? That’s not an option.
Hmmm. Nurses and doctors wear disposable rubber gloves. Lisa finds a stick, picks up the fortunate creature, and transports it to safety.
I don’t know God’s plan for Tommy’s and Tina’s lives. But this I do know: as their mothers encourage compassion, even when it’s inconvenient or might look silly to others, they are working within God’s plan. Lisa’s and Maria’s efforts and persistence are helping their young children to mirror–albeit most imperfectly–their Heavenly Father’s compassion. I am honoured to have a part in their lives.
“The LORD is gracious, and full of compassion . . . .” Psalm 145:8a