Yesterday was a pretty terrible day. I was all alone, feeling rejected, abandoned, unwanted and unloved. I don’t have the fortitude right now to write more about it than that. Suffice it to say, it was one of the lowest days I’ve had in about six months.
I started this morning with a prayer. I don’t remember what about, exactly. I just know that when I started the day today, I was more intensely aware than usual of my need for God.
I pulled myself out of bed, dragged myself into the shower and plodded along to church. My best friend Ashley was available to chat after church, so we went out for coffee, and I talked her ear off for a couple of hours, trying to get everything off my chest and out of my system. Like she has for the past twenty years, she took it all in stride and encouraged me to get it all out. She’s seriously the best.
After our coffee date, I went home, put in my ear buds and decided to go for a walk outside to try to enjoy the beautiful day and talk with God. My walk turned into a run, and after a couple of miles, I found myself back at my apartment complex, physically tired but still emotionally tightly wound.
Walking through the rows of apartments to my building, I spotted a squirrel sitting in a tree. It was on a lower branch, still without leaves since spring is still weeks away, so the squirrel was exposed and in full view. I stopped my walk, pausing on the sidewalk to watch the squirrel’s breathing. Its breaths became quicker as it sensed me watching.
I observed the pattern of its fur – mostly brown, but it had reddish tints along its head, just like my parents’ lovable old dog. I love to pet the red patch on the top of that sweet dog’s head. And in that moment, I wanted to pet the squirrel. Mostly, I just wanted to be comforted. I needed snuggling, and the squirrel looked soft and cuddly.
When I was a little girl, I used to go in the backyard and sing to the animals, thinking if I had a beautiful enough voice, all of the tiny woodland creatures would come scurrying to me like they do for the Disney princesses. Since they never came, I figured my voice just wasn’t pretty enough.
This afternoon watching that squirrel, I felt like a little girl again. I just wanted to be loved. I wanted a connection; to feel like someone cared, even if it was a little squirrel. So I stood on the sidewalk and started to sing along to the music playing in my ear buds. It was “More Than Enough” by Chris Tomlin.
All of You is more than enough for all of me,
For every thirst and every need.
You satisfy me with Your love
And all I have in You is more than enough.
As I sang, I prayed, “God this is a silly prayer, but I need to feel your closeness. I need to know that you hear me. Will you comfort me with this squirrel? You directed animals to come to Noah and his ark. You commanded the insects that plagued Egypt in Exodus. You ordained for the giant fish to swallow Jonah. I know you have sovereignty over this squirrel. Will you calm it? Slow its breaths? Have it come down from that branch and not be afraid of me?”
The squirrel blinked, raised its paw, turned to look at me, and when the song had just a few measures left, that squirrel scurried down the tree trunk, paused to look at me from the base, and hopped ahead of me on the sidewalk all the way to my apartment building.
Thanks, God. You answer even the tiniest of prayers.