Caterpillar Funerals and Thankfulness


As a mom, I pick up a lot of odd jobs around our house.

I am a secretary to my technology challenged husband who believes that to "Google" something is a violation of the ten commandments (thou shalt not google thy neighbor's wife.)

I am also the answer-er of random questions.

Why didn't you name me Captain America?

Because there already is a Captain America, so we just named you Logan. 

But I already know three other guys named Logan and only one other Captain America.

(Captain America is now eating cookies and while watching Dora the Explorer.)

Last spring I was given another job: the reluctant caregiver of caterpillars.

These fuzzy little leg-clad creatures were very proudly collected by my oldest who wanted to study metamorphosis.

I am pretty sure that one smiled at me on a Tuesday when I gave it a dandelion, but maybe that was just me. I'm an approval seeker.

Here is something about caterpillars you probably don't know (and maybe didn't want to know): they eat a lot and they poop a lot.

Therefore their home is in constant need of more leaves to eat and always needs cleaning out, both of which immediately became my job.

I have to admit, though, I became sort of attached to them. But since I sometimes struggle to keeping the kids alive, I can't say I was really the best choice to care for their caterpillar needs. I did my best, I will just say that.

When I was asked to speak at the first one's funeral I was quite honored.

The second one's funeral, however, I was not asked to speak and found a notable suspicion in my children's attitude as I offered condolences at the body viewing.

By the time the third funeral rolled around, I was outright accused of murder.  I don't blame them, as I am not completely convinced of my own innocence although I would never purposely kill anything (except spiders--and that's only if they refuse to go outside when I open the door).  

So I would say I'm guilty of neglect at worst. 

Even with my now sketchy record, I was still never fired from being the caretaker of the two fuzzy creatures that remained.

Those two lived on for a while until Logan took them outside to play, and they made a break for it. I was happy for them. When my kids drug these little critters around, it always made me think about how thankful I am that God didn't make me a bug.

This thought process kind of put me on a whole new path of thankfulness when I really started thinking about it.

I have always been thankful for what I thought to be the little things in life: my family, my home, my health.  Of course these are wonderful gifts that we should thank God for daily, but suddenly I realized that thankfulness needs to go back to the basics.

God was never required to create anything--much less me or you. He could have made emotional zombies, but instead He created us as passionate creatures, capable of love and hate, joy and sadness, and pleasure and pain.

Without all these emotions life would not be worth living, but here's the thing: God was not obligated to make our life worth living.

He did that because He wanted to, not because we deserved it. We are His creation, and our destiny was His to create whether it was one we liked or one we didn't like.

He could chained us up and made us answer to His every whim, but instead He wanted us to willingly serve without a cracking whip.

Not only did He decide to create humans, he decided to make you and I humans.

He could have made us bugs.  You could have been that poor unfortunate caterpillar who died in the hands of an inexperienced caretaker.

No that I'm confessing or anything.

Meg DuncanComment