What a nut case

“‘Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.’” – Matthew 10:29-31

Biking home, my mind was lost in thousands of different thoughts. That day was one of those days where nothing bad happened, yet you feel down and think about life way too long. Once I had arrived home though, my depressing afternoon took a complete 180 in a way that I never would have imagined. I was walking towards the front door of my house when I heard a familiar voice yell, “Em!”. I turned to see my roommate biking up the driveway carrying groceries from the local store. She looked panicked as she exclaimed, "Two birds over there are attacking something like a mouse!" I looked and saw two black crows pecking at something just as she had described. Without thinking, I ran over scaring the crows away to find out that they were not pecking a mouse. They had been attacking a baby squirrel who was now squealing from its traumatic experience.

Looking down, my immediate sarcastic thought was, "Great, just what I needed today". Now, I was faced with a baby squirrel. Watching it shrieking and squirming in the middle of the road though, I felt my hard, self-centered heart crack with a little bit of compassion. I knew I could not walk away and leave it to die at the hands of those pesky crows. I had to do something. So, I picked it up and walked up my driveway to where my roommate had been observing the whole scene. Looking at her and then back down at the baby squirrel in my hand, I asked her, “Can you look up how to take care of a baby squirrel?”

Once inside, my roommate began researching various methods on raising baby rodents while I called a friend from back home who had raised a squirrel with her family. We then went to Walmart with the squirrel and got a few essentials for raising a squirrel such as a heating pad, syringes, and milk powder. While searching for these items, I thought and even asked God, "Why me? I don't have time for this. I don't want this kind of responsibility." God did not answer my questions at that moment. Instead, He remained silent while I returned to the car to find my roommate and our new little friend.

“What should we name it?” she asked.

“Oh dear”, I thought. “Now, I’m going to get attached to the creature.” I shrugged, “I don’t know. Have any ideas?” She named a few, and I did the same. At one point, we thought of the name Hazel. I thought it was cute because of the nut and the fact that squirrels eat nuts. We were still undecided on names, but I kept Hazel in the back of my mind.

Once back home, I began the process of taking care of the squirrel. I knew there was a good chance that my attempts to care for it would fail and that it would inevitably die. However, minutes turned into hours which then turned into days, and the squirrel miraculously remained alive. As time continued, my heart continued to form more cracks allowing me to show more love and care towards it.

I also had no idea how my other two roommates nor my parents, who happened to be coming up to visit me in a couple of days, would react to having a rodent in the house. Surprisingly, my roommates at least tolerated the idea and even offered to help when needed. When my parents came, I initially tried to hide the squirrel. They arrived in the evening so they, I, and my roommates went out to dinner. Afterwards, they decided to swing by the house to drop stuff off and came inside. When they entered my room, I thought for sure they would notice the baby squirrel in a small cardboard box on the floor underneath my keyboard. To my surprise, they did not notice it. At one point, my dad even began to test out my keyboard. This horrified me, and I slowly turned down the volume trying to not to awaken the squirrel. Somehow, they still did not notice my little friend sleeping away (how, due to the noisiness, I have still yet to figure out) in its box. However, they decided to hangout for a while. Through my roommate’s research, I had learned that a baby squirrel had to be fed every three hours. When we had gotten back from dinner, it was about time to feed it again. My parents, not knowing my pressing time table, remained in my room as I watched the time reach four hours and past. Eventually, I decided to stop hiding the elephant in the room and feed it. My parents were surprised and, to my surprise, did not tell me to throw it back outside. They asked me a bunch of questions, of course, which I answered as best as I could. At the end, they thought it was cool and that the squirrel was adorable. After they left, I went back into my room and looked at the squirrel perplexed. “God, only You could have made that go that smoothly!”

Time continued as I took care of the baby squirrel and began to love it dearly. Eventually, I decided to name it Hazel. My roommate would joke calling it Hazel Grace after the girl in the book The Fault in Our Stars. I was not a fan of the name reference until in one of our conversations it dawned on me that what I did was offer this squirrel grace, a second chance at life.

I began to realize that God was giving me a few lessons. First, all life matters, including squirrels. As it says in Matthew 6:26, "Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?" Second, I should NEVER pass an opportunity to care for a life, especially a person's life since they are "beautifully and wonderfully" made in the image of God. Third, patience and discipline are a necessity to life. It was not easy taking care of a squirrel, but I quickly learned that it was well worth it!

While caring for Hazel, I had the privilege to watch it quickly develop. What started out as a blind baby squirrel soon turned into an energetic creature who would climb all around my shoulders and head (Yes, you read that right. Granted, I soon learned that this was a bad idea unless I was wearing a hat to protect myself from the creature’s projectiles). I spent much of my time at home caring for Hazel. Even while doing homework, I would be feeding Hazel or letting it climb all over me. At night, I set an alarm for every three hours to feed Hazel and care for it. Sometimes, it was difficult getting out of bed until I remembered Hazel’s cute face and adorable noises. Eventually, I became accustomed to my routine and, what had started out as a burden, had now turned into my joy and grace.

Two weeks after the rescue though, I found out about a wildlife center nearby. They often received baby squirrels and took them through rehabilitation and then released them back into the wild. I knew I could not care for Hazel indefinitely and wanted it to have the best life possible, one free in its natural environment. That afternoon, I placed Hazel’s box in my car and made my way toward the wildlife center.

I will admit that there were many tears on my part that evening, and I did not want to talk about it to anyone for the next couple of days. Driving to the Florida Wildlife Center, I was already starting to choke up. I arrived at the building and met a nice lady who oversaw the squirrel rehabilitation. She asked a few questions about how I had been caring for him (she informed me that it was a boy) and then gave me a piece of paper stating that I was giving him to her. After signing it, I went to my car to give her Hazel. I remember reaching into the box to grab him, and he dodged my first grip (he had never done that before) as if he knew I was giving him away. This made it even more difficult for me to give him away now seeing that the bond between us was not one-sided but mutual. He did not dodge my second attempt, and I gave him to her feeling the separation both physically and within my exposed heart. Soon after the exchange, I quickly got into my car feeling slight embarrassment for tearing up in front of a lady I just met but feeling more the sorrow of losing my little friend. As I pulled out of the driveway, I said it aloud, “Goodbye, Hazel…”

Driving back to the house, I could not stop the tears now pouring down my cheeks. I said to myself "It's just a squirrel, Emily. Why are you crying?" I knew why, so I then asked God "Why did you make me care and get attached to people and creatures so easily?" He answered asking "Would you rather me to have not given you feelings?" I thought about it and knew my answer, no. No matter what pain comes from losing those you love, there is no greater gift than having the opportunity to love others. Losing someone/something you love is torture, but loving someone/something is priceless.

When I first met Hazel, my heart was closed like a nut covered by a hard shell. Yet, as he shrieked in fear, as I nurtured him in my hands, as he grew and became a little spaz, my hardened shell-like heart cracked open enough to love him endearingly. When it came time to say goodbye, my heart was completely uncovered and letting him go hurt. However, I am glad it hurt because that proves that I truly loved him and, because I loved him, I was willing to give him up for his sake. Now, I am eternally thankful to God for bombarding my self-centered day with a baby squirrel because I would not have experienced the joy and pleasure that I now treasure within my cracked open heart. Who knew a squirrel could show me all of this? I guess God knew.