I heard the poison ivy laughing at me as it teamed up with the neighboring pricker bushes to ambush the exposed skin of my legs. Cobwebs stuck to my face like cotton candy on a little child’s face. My t-shirt accepted the humidity extracted sweat from my pores like a bucket receives sap from a maple tree. My weary legs stumbled over the leaf-covered rocks and fallen limbs.
I had to find my cat. He had been gone for a day and a half.
The sound of a nearby chainsaw screamed over any attempt I could make to call out, “Wakefield.” Perhaps, he was frightened by the sounds of the chainsaw and was hiding deep in the thicket. I scoured the woods relentlessly. I was not giving up!
The chainsaw stopped. “Wake…” I heard a loud crack, like a log splitting in two.
Holy Shit, they are cutting down trees!
I looked up and saw the treetops folding. Crack, crack, crack. The tree was taller than a telephone pole and thick as an oil drum. It was heading my way.
It’s going to crush me. I am going to die.
I didn’t have time to run. It’s amazing how fast thoughts run through your mind when you think you are going to die. My entire life didn’t flash before my eyes. Just the thought, Freak accident kills man while looking for his cat.
The immature trees and saplings did nothing to break the tree’s rapid fall. As it touched down, I was hit with a debris bomb of dirt, leaves, and broken sticks. Death avoided me. I sat down on a rock and wept uncontrollably.
Is this good enough for you God? I am willing to die to find my cat? What POSSIBLE lesson am I supposed to learn from this? Just bring Wakefield home!
How many times has your life come crashing down around you, without warning. No one yelling, “Timberrr!” to warn you of what is about to happen. God is mean sometimes! He doesn’t give us time to think. He just scares the crap out of us. Makes us wake up. He slaps some sense into us. Why? Because we become so numb, so stuck in our patterns, and unappreciative of what we have. Sometimes, we need a good “poop in your pants” moment to become alive again.
I prayed to God and thanked him for not taking me. I learned to ask St. Francis (patron Saint of animals) and St. Anthony (patron Saint of lost things) for their help.
This morning, Wakefield came home. I cried tears of joy. My child was home.
Are you like me? Always seem to pray only when things are going bad. Try to remember to count your blessings everyday. I don’t care about your religion or your faith. Please realize there is something much greater than all of us. And “It” would like a little appreciation now and then.