Life and Lessons

Last night we had JJ and Jocelyne over so the kids could have a date all by themselves, a terrible burden for grandparents to have to bear. They ended up spending the night and started off the morning with us as well. Lucy’s in the kitchen fixing breakfast, for you not familiar with my choice of words, there’s nothing broken; breakfast is being prepared, eggs, grits, bacon and toast.

Jocelyne was jibber jabbering away with the language that only very small children can fully appreciate, pointing to Bubba sitting on the far counter top. I picked Jocelyne up and carefully let her reach over to touch the top of Bubba’s head, to feel the tips of her ears and watch for any danger signs. Bubba tolerated it a couple of times and then backed away.

I eased Jocelyne down so she could stand on her own, below cabinet level and yet within the danger zone, and kept a closer eye on Bubba as Jocelyne was jibber jabbering away, something about how cute, soft and wonderful Bubba was, that Bubba was her favorite furry friend forever and a day; a rough approximation based on the gleam in her eyes. Bubba sat with patience as Jocelyne moved the foot stool out of her way to be closer to her new best friend, her hands reaching higher and yet below the level where she might reach Bubba.

It was over in a flash; Bubba shot a few quick jabs downward striking Jocelyne on the top of her outstretched hand and said something so ugly it wasn’t fit for printing. Jocelyne stood in disbelief for several seconds, reviewing in her mind what had been explained to her, “I don’t like little children with fingers covered with sticky slime. I don’t want to be your friend unless you have a can of tuna already opened and carefully sectioned in my favorite dish. I’d like to tear the skin off those chubby little hands and watch you die a slow death from blood poisoning and I never was your friend to begin with.”; or something like that.

Jocelyne broke down in tears and loud cries as would be expected when a heart is torn asunder. Lucy wrapped her in her arms and tried to soften the lesson in reality that had to be learned; Bubba hasn’t room in her heart for anyone, much less a little girl who might be a threat.

I’m reminded of a warning in Matthew, “But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.” Bubba better be more careful who she gets riled at.

I’m pretty sure the lesson is for us, not some persnickety feline; the tender feelings of a child are vulnerable and can only withstand a little injury before becoming hardened and insensitive. Are we not all children of our Father in Heaven, seeking tenderness and love? Let’s work on being more kind and not have to worry about being fitted for a millstone.