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You either love them, or you hate them. Squirrels. Some see them as destructive pests, but I have had an affinity for them since I was a small child. Yesterday as I sipped my coffee, there one was! It scampered across the lawns of my apartment complex. A grin stretched up my cheeks. My heart melted. “Ahhh. How cute. Thank you, Lord. I needed to see that today.”
I love the way they curl that bushy tail over their backs as the sun streams through it. I think it is precious when they stand erect like a soldier at attention, then in a split second they’re off, dashing across the lawn as if their feet didn’t touch the ground. I grew up with squirrels chattering and skittering through the Texas Hill Country oaks and cypress which canopied the riverbank. Each time the soft rustle caught my ear, or a cypress ball thunked to the ground, I’d look up to find the scampering culprit silhouetted by the sun.
My eldest cousin fed the squirrels. I’d watch as he stood on his wooden deck which stretched towards the ravine and tap a pecan three times on the rail. Before I could count to ten, a fox squirrel would appear, his or her lean body stretching along the tree trunk with its nose twitching. Yep – pecan! The little thing would scurry across the thin rail like an expert tightrope walker and grab the cracked nut from my cousin’s large but gentle hands.
My heart ached with desire. I wanted to feed the squirrels like that. My cousin told me it took him a long time to train the critters to trust him enough to realize he wanted to feed them, not harm them. I had most of the summer to try. Each day I’d tap the pecan, then leave it on the rail and back away. Barely breathing, I waited in silence until I saw the squirrel. It would cautiously stretch across the tree trunk, eying me. Safe? Danger? Friend? Predator? Am I that hungry? I imagined the little wheels turning in its brain. Eventually, it would come, grab the pecan and leap back to the safety of its tree. I’d exhale and back away as its cheeks move rapidly, chewing its prize. Each day I would inch a bit closer. A few times I got too close to the rail. The squirrel would not come down. But I didn’t give up. My heart’s desire was for that squirrel to learn to trust me enough to take the pecan from my hand. With daily persistence, one day it happened.
I will never forget the flutter I felt in my chest as those tiny paws encircled my fingers and miniscule black claws brushed my knuckles as it grabbed the pecan.
The squirrel hesitated for a split second, then popped its bushy tail and leapt for the tree trunk. It took everything in me not to squeal for joy. I stealthily backed away in slow motion as tears of happiness trailed down my cheeks.
Is this how God finally got me to come to Him? In many ways, yes. He tapped on my heart over and over, yet I was so reluctant to respond. But His patience was eternal. His goal was sure – “Get her to trust. I have so much to offer her.”
Dear Lord, the day I came and took what you stretched out your hands on the cross to give me , did you suck in your breath? Did you heart overflow with joy as my tiny hand first grabbed your promise and claimed it as mine? Did tears of joy cascade down your chiseled cheeks?
Each time I see a squirrel, I remember. Never stop tapping, Father. Forgive me if I hesitate, Lord. Do not give up on me, ever. Your Spirit reminds me of your goodness towards me. I will come when you call.
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