I glanced out the window, to see my daughter, Maddy. Age almost-12. My girly-girl/tomboy rolled into one. She was hiking up her pant legs, standing next to the pond.
"She wouldn't." My brain said to itself.
She kicked off her shoes, one-by-one.
"Oh, I guess she would." Said my brain instead.
I was surprised, but then again, not very. Because even though Maddy likes to wear lip gloss and paint her toenails, she also likes to splash in the minnow bucket. Even though she loves her American Girl doll, she also likes to climb trees, whittle sticks, and play Legos. Know what I mean?
The thing that makes her a tomboy most of all, is that she loves frogs and toads. I mean, she seriously loves them. (And turtles... but that's a post for another day.) She hunts all through the backyard for them. And when she finds one -- oh the joy! She immediately transforms into the most nurturing frog-mama you've ever seen. Only the best empty ice cream pail for her little critters. They need rocks and grass and water, too. Her voice reaches octaves you never hear. "Ooohhh, they're SO CUTE!" she squeals.
She slowly eased herself into the pond, squishing her bare feet into the muddy bottom. Dirty? Yep. Messy? You bet. Smelly? Surely. But she had her eyes on the prize, while I helplessly watched out the window as my clean little girl waded into the pond -- right. before. church.
Tadpoles.
Boom. Right there.
She could see them, and she wanted one.
Laughing, I asked my friend to borrow my "mom voice" to go holler at my kid to get out of the swamp. Maddy came inside on a mission, "Mom! There's tadpoles!! We've gotta get them!"
"What? What are you gonna do with those?"
She didn't even hear me. "What can I put them in, a cup?"
She ran off to retrieve one, while I yelled out, "Go ask your Dad first!"
Long story short, Jason loves his baby girl. So, we went home from church with two tadpoles from the pond out back.
That was two weeks ago.
We got home and Googled "What do tadpoles eat?" and found out they will eat small bugs and lettuce that's been boiled for ten minutes, then chopped up into teeny-tiny pieces. Maddy made a little habitat for them with water and rocks, including bigger rocks that stick up out of the water that the frogs can sit on. You know, once they are actual, real-life frogs. Maddy named them Fire and Water.
The other night, I snapped this picture of them. As you can see, one (Fire) had already turned into a mostly-frog. It was pretty cool to watch this transformation.
Then yesterday morning happened.
I didn't even have to go downstairs to know why my baby girl was sobbing and crying so hard. She was completely distraught, and I knew why right away.
Fire the mostly-frog hadn't made it through the night.
He was upside-down in the water. Belly-up, as it were.
Maddy was heartbroken. She wailed non-words as tears streamed down her cheeks. And all I could do was hug her and tell her I was so sorry and that it was not her fault. Truthfully, I teared up a little, watching her display of sorrow.
We had a little funeral for him yesterday. Our whole family gathered around the (ahem) "resting place", then each of us shared a memory.
"I remember when he sat on the pretty blue rock in your habitat."
"I held him once."
"I remember when he was just a little tadpole."
"I remember the day we brought him home, along with his brother."
We said a prayer, then flushed.
Maddy was still pretty sad off-and-on yesterday. She decided to let the other tadpole go, so Jason helped her release him in the swamp by our house to give him a fighting chance.
I got to thinking about that tadpole-frog yesterday afternoon. It was such a miniscule thing that made such an impact on my daughter's heart. I thought about how her sadness affected me. Admittedly, I wasn't too sad about the almost-frog named Fire, ummm... croaking (excuse the pun). For a while though, I was torn up inside because Maddy was so heartbroken. My heart aches when my child's heart aches. I hated seeing her so distressed.
Did you know? The same is true for our Heavenly Father.
Psalm 34:18 The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.
God comforts us when we feel sad, yes. But I also got a picture of Him yesterday as a Dad that loves us so much, He feels sad when we do. Truly, I believe He feels for us. I believe His heart goes out to us in the midst of our losses, our rejections, our heartbreaks. Why? Because He is a good Dad.
I believe God grieves with us because He loves us. He doesn't just pat us on the head, condescendingly saying, "There, there. Get over your sadness now."
God sits in the sadness with us, because He knows that sometimes we need Him to. He knows that sometimes, we need a hug. We need someone to tell us it'll be OK. We need to know that when bad things happen to us, it's not always our fault.
Even when our sadness is brought on by what some people would label "miniscule".
That gave me some comfort yesterday, remembering that God loves me like an amazing Dad. Trusting that He cares for me so deeply, He is actually sad when I am sad, even though He already knows the good plans He has for my future.
I hope you feel God's love like that, too. If you don't, let's talk. I want you to know how deeply loved you are! And if, for some reason, you are heartbroken right now -- LOOK UP. God, your good Dad, wants to bring you comfort and help you through it. Remembering that is what got me through the toughest time of my own life.
Your problems are not miniscule to God, because YOU are not miniscule to Him.
You are deeply loved.
