The Guardian

Is there a God? Do we have guides? Guardian angels?

These questions occurred to me during the month that I rehabbed a dehydrated, orphaned infant squirrel at home. He was so little, so vulnerable, so sweet, so funny. And for over 4 weeks his little life was in my hands.

Literally.

While he was sleeping and unaware, I brought him home in a flannel lined box with a microwaved rice sock to keep him warm during the trip. I drove more slowly than I ever have, being extra careful to avoid bumps as my free hand lay protectively on it's top.

Upon arrival I settled the box on a heating pad, but kept the sock in with him because this one was clearly a cuddler. I felt bad that he was all on his own... except for me. He'd push his little nose under the heavy, round sock, which imitates in shape and weight the body of a mother squirrel. I can't tell you how many times I tip toed into that room to lift the lid and check on him. I watched his breathing, and delighted in his funny sleeping positions. I kept a schedule and woke him at regular intervals, tested the temp of his milk on my wrist, and fed him, taking copious notes on his growth and behavior. Every time I checked I could see his ears had gotten pointier, his tail hair had grown visibly, his belly was furring over, or that his whiskers had come out. It was like I'd been given superpowers, and could watch his growth as if I possessed rapid-speed vision, or that time no longer existed as I knew it, and I had somehow stepped into a different plane of awareness and operation. It was, in a word, surreal.

He did not know that I was there. I was virtually invisible to him, a totally different species in fact, so huge he could never comprehend me, or the fact that I use computers and drive a car... things that just aren't within his realm of imagination. He simply did what he was born to do... eat, sleep and grow, destined to climb trees, play in the fresh air, forage for nuts to bury, make a nest, and find a little girl squirrel to have babies with... all because I was sheparding him through this stage of his little life.

During feeding, he knew when he was full; he'd pull away, instantly curl up in my palm and be out like a light, so soft, innocent, trusting and warm. Many times I cupped my other palm over him and just held him for a long time, to be sure he was in a very deep sleep before I'd ever so gently place him back in his bed, the cloth of which I'd change to fresh every single day. He'd only stir enough to push his little nose under the belly of that rice sock, and go back to his dreams. And I was ever-present, keeping watch.

Though I had a very busy adult human life, truthfully nothing was more important to me than overseeing his well being. I went to bed thinking about him, and woke up doing the same. I had a distinct sense of rightness and purpose. It was natural, easy, and completely joyful. I felt like it was the most special thing I could do with my own life.

And as I did all this, day after day, I thought: What if we had someone doing just the same thing-- steering us in the right direction, helping us grow, nurturing our development, keeping things warm and cozy... always there, looking out for us, even when things might appear go astray? Some One or some Thing in a form or from an existence that we can't quite comprehend but in whose hands we are safe? What if we have their full attention as it's their purpose, their life's work? What if, above all, we are as fully loved as I loved and still love this little boy squirrel? Can we just relax then, in good times and bad, and trust that we are being taken care of always?

Hmmm....

What do you think?

*thank you to jameswoodward.wordpress.com for the snow angel image*