The Heart of a Child

Let's step back in time. It's now Saturday the 10th day of February. The year is 2007, and my children are playing outside. The temperature has finally warmed up to freezing here. Morgan - she is eight - and the youngest, Melena - she just turned five. I love them both. They are children of light and love. They make my day, almost every day. 

My baby, Melena, has big medicine with me. I am completely in love and have long since given up trying to hide it. I think she figured this out last year sometime – the situation has worsened. She shines on everyone she meets, and they shine back at her. Her mother and I call her “Sunshine”. She is a special little light.

Today she made me look inside myself, as she so often does. She and Morgan were playing, while I messed around in my office that overlooks the back yard. I saw them coming my way at a full gallop. Melena obviously had something in her cupped hands, and she looked distressed, in her own special stressed-out way. The "something" turned out to be a dead mouse.

They both burst into my office declaring that Tipper, the dog, had killed a poor mouse and they wanted permission to bury it in the yard somewhere. I laughed a little but quickly stifled the chuckle upon realizing the seriousness of the demise of this mouse, in their minds. I told them they could bury it inside the fence of the garden. Off they blasted, mouse in hand, to the garden.

Ten minutes passed, and here they came again – full bore. This time they produced a blank piece of paper and a stick. Melena asked that I write something“special” on the paper and tape it to the stick, so she could “put it in the dirt next to the mouse.” Did I mention they had given the mouse a name by now – Rapunzel? I obliged as follows: “RIP Here lays the body of Rapunzel the mouse.” I taped it to the stick, and away they flew once more. I thought that was the end of it, but no.

Here they came again. Melena took me by the hand and asked if I would come and pray with them at the “grave”. Of course, I couldn't say no. We made it to the fresh dig, and I noticed that not only had they buried Rapunzel and put a marker out for her – they had also built a barrier of broken twigs around the grave to ward off potential intruders. Great care had been taken in the burial. 

We held hands and knelt beside the grave. Melena asked if she could lead the prayer. Morgan and I agreed readily, and in her tiny sweet voice, she offered these words with great care:

“Mouse, I am sorry you died.

We made you a bed.

I hope you are comfortable.

Amen”

Dear reader, I am not a mouse lover. I have trapped hundreds and never given it a second thought. Thus, what I have to tell you is out of character but nevertheless true. Suddenly, I felt some kind of unexpected compassion for Rapunzel, lying there dead, with eyes closed forever. I looked down into the green eyed, blond haired, five-year-old face of my baby girl and saw the purity of her heart.

I felt a bit ashamed of myself for having grown old and callous – for having allowed the life and death, I had witnessed through the years, to sear my heart. I wanted to be like her. In a flash, I lost myself in remembrance and felt five again. It felt good. Melena has taught me many lessons. This is the one she taught me in February of 2007.

For My Children,

Love life. Respect life. Honor life - always.

With All My Love,
Pappy