A Sad Occasion

Yesterday, I was on a ladder in the living room, placing items on the new shelving unit He-man built when I heard a soft knocking on the back door.  I recognized it immediately.  I was certain that on the other end of the tap-tap-tap was either Little Missy B or her older sister.  I did not want to climb down the ladder nor stop what I was doing.... so.... I ignored the knock.  

A few seconds later the front door bell rang.  I could not brush that off so easily as big sister was staring at me through the window.  I reluctantly descended and opened the front door. 

"I come on a sad occasion," she said, big brown eyes filling up the space between us.

"Oh," I replied.  "What's up?"

"We found a dead bird.  We buried it in our yard.  I want to know if you would like to attend the funeral?"

"Is is right now?" I asked, thinking about the project I wanted to finish.

"Yes.  I have a bible and we dug a grave and everything is ready.  Can you come?" 

I looked at the anticipation on her ten-year-old face and decided my project could wait.  I told her that I needed to get my coat and my camera and I would meet her at the grave site in a minute.  She chirped a quick, "Okay," as she half skipped and half ran down the walk disappearing behind our rose bush.

I saw the circle of little people as soon as I opened my back door.  Little Miss B was clinging to older, taller, brave-brother as she clutched a stuff toy and wept over the loss of John Doe Bird.

Big sister read about everlasting life from the Gospel of John.  Friends from across the street paid the most proper respect with eyes closed and reverent glances toward the heavens.

When Missy B could not be consoled, big brother not so subtly suggested that the minister change her reading to Genesis where God created animals that flew in the air.

Big Sis couldn't quite find the exact passage but repeated several times with bold emphasis, "and God said that it was good." 

Everyone, except Missy B, who was too grief stricken to move, joined hands as a prayer was offered for the life of the late Mr. Bird. 

The grave was adorned with flowers from the neighborhood and a personal head stone reading: Barbie-Gary Meador-Freed.  Have a happy life.

I thanked the minister for the invitation.  I paid my respects with a bow of my head.  I turned off my camera and meandered across the driveway that separated the grave yard from my back door.  Safely inside, a huge smile overtook my entire body and I found myself giving thanks for the interruption.

What occurred to me as I was climbing back on my ladder is that little children can't wait to be adults.  They want to preach and teach and lead and be the boss.  They emulate us in most every imaginary game they play.  Interesting to me though, now that I am an older adult I am drawn more and more to the uninhibited, playful, just-because way of the child.

26. I am grateful for the persistent tapping of children.

I hope your day is more than a list of projects.  I hope one, little knock calls you down from your high horse.  I hope your whole day smiles because of it.

  Yaya