Not one animal will die apart from God
I saw him when I turned the corner on the gravel road I was walking. I thought he was sleeping; his soft body stretched out, his head turned to the side. I expected he’d jump up and scamper away as soon as my footsteps grew closer. But he lay still. I knew then, from yards away, that he was dead.
“Oh, Mr. Squirrel,” I sighed, my heart filling with sorrow. “What happened to you?” Not a mark was on his chubby body, his gray fur bright and shiny. I stood for a few moments, admiring his beauty, then turned, and walked on.
“He’s safe with me, Sparrow,” God said as He made His presence known, His stride matching my own.
“I know. But life is such an amazing gift, I feel sad to see it come to an end,” I replied. God didn’t say anything more, allowing me to be present with my feelings. A gentle rain began to fall. I’d not worn a raincoat, so I took off my scarf and draped it over my head.
“This rain nourishes the tender seeds waiting to sprout. New life lies below the earth,” God explained. Mr. Squirrel’s body will return to the earth, to nourish that new life waiting to come forth.”
“It’s still a mystery to me, these seasons of life and death,” I confessed.
God reached out and took my hand. “It’s not a mystery at all. It’s love. It’s me,” He said tenderly.
We circled back toward home. When we came to the place where God will bury Mr. Squirel, we stopped. I looked once again at his beautiful body and gave thanks that he was a part of God’s love. I wished him well on his journey.