It’s not easy playing God.
It rained all night. A slow soaking rain. So this morning the grass was taller and greener, getting closer to where I’ll have to mow it. The grass seed I sprinkled on a bare spot in the back finally got enough water and warmth to start growing. Man cannot do with a hose what Mother Nature can do with a long, slow rain.
After surveying my greenery, we headed off for our morning walk with the dogs. Our street was lousy with big thick nightcrawlers that came up during the night. And now they were crawling across the asphalt, doomed to be sure.
So as we walked, I started picking them up and tossing them onto the lawns. They were no doubt terrified at suddenly being grabbed and tossed. Little did they know I was just trying to save them from getting squashed by cars or roasted by the sun.
But of course I couldn’t save them all. There were hundreds. And I felt guilty not saving them all. I bet God feels that same guilt. He picks us off the asphalt as fast as He can, but there are just so many of us crawling to our doom.
Relax, I’m not going to get religious here. It’s just when I see helpless little bugs or worms in peril, because of us crazy humans and our blasted civilization, I always feel a little guilty. Yes, I’m one of those loony nutballs who catches flies and spiders and lets them go out the back door. I admit it.
I also admit it’s all very selective, situational and hypocritical. Yesterday I had a corned beef sandwich. Tonight I’m having ribs and chicken. I could never bring myself to hunt but I always liked to go fishing. I’ve been known to smack a mosquito when it gets too close to my ear. Every time I take a shower I kill millions of bacteria. And so do you, by the way, so get all cleaner-than-thou on me. Who knows how many zillions of living things each and everyone of us kills every day? Such is life.
And speaking of fishing, when I was a kid, my brother and I would go out with my dad on rainy nights and pluck nightcrawlers off the lawn – you shine your flashlight on them and then grab them quick before they can retreat down their holes – and then use them to catch fish.
What is it about we humans that our hearts are touched so arbitrarily?
About fifteen years ago I was painting my parents’ garage. I was up on the ladder slathering paint. There was a tiny little spider on the clapboard in front of me. I could have painted right over the little sucker. But I carefully picked him off the wall and, without looking, reached back and let him go. Saved him. When I went back down the ladder, I saw that I’d let him go right into my open can of paint.
