This summer if you come to my house you’ll see a spider or two, most likely a lizard, a mouse, and/or a garter snake. And most definitely you’ll see a frog – the tiny tree frog kind – or a sibling group of frogs – inside the house.
Literally, I have to watch where I step, as they like to hop down the hallway or across the kitchen floor.
I should post a sign: Caution. Frog Crossing.
One morning I wasn’t watching, and I heard the little splat.
The amount of critters populating the earth in these foothills during one season is directly proportionate to the amount of rain received in the previous two seasons. California’s no longer in a drought, and boy, do we know it. The leafhoppers and mosquitoes are innumerable.
The thing about frogs is, they like water. They need water. If one finds my kitchen sink, it’ll survive. But for those that don’t, and especially if they run into a clump of dust underneath the hutch, it’s only a matter of time before their demise.
These days I’ve added frog-catching to my daily routine. I bend over and scoop it up, closing my hand around it tight, and take it outside to where the green grass, moist dirt and potted plants are.
I want them to live.
Hint: they eat bugs.
More specifically, they eat leafhoppers.
But when a frog sees me coming, it hops away. And when my giant hand comes down on top and it becomes imprisoned in my grasp, it’s afraid for its life.
I would be, too.
What it doesn’t know is, I’m saving its life. What seems very much like impending doom is actually a rescue from certain death.
If I just had a way to let it know I’m not the enemy. That I’m on its side; that there’s nothing to be afraid of; that in less than a minute all will make sense, and it will be back outside – safe – where the water is. Where life is.
Sometimes I’m like that little frog. And sometimes I’m in a not-so-good place in search of something I desperately need.
And God has to intervene. Because He knows more than I do. He wants all that’s best for me. He wants life for me. And He knows how to lead me there.
In His hand I’m safe.