Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Art (01/18/07)
- TITLE: The Art of Caring
By Linda C. Smith
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Later that afternoon, our daughter’s heart melted with pity as she found it was still alive. She pleaded with me to let her try to help this small, wounded creature. I told her she could try, but in my heart, I thought it a hopeless task.
She found a small shoebox, padded the inside with fake grass, placed a tissue on top of the grass, and gently laid the sufferer on the tissue. A constant source of warmth under a desk lamp completed her provision of every comfort.
Meanwhile, after several phone calls, I was given very precise instructions to soften dry dog food with water and to feed it small amounts of the mush every hour. I was also told, very sternly, “Don’t be surprised if it dies despite your heroic efforts.”
Very early the next morning, both my husband and I were abruptly awakened by sounds coming from our daughter’s bedroom. To our utter amazement, we heard vigorous “CHIRP! CHIRP! CHIRP!”
A few hours later, the bleary-eyed surrogate mama appeared at the table for her breakfast.
“It’s still alive!” she reported.
Knowing our daughter was going to be away for the next few days, we realized this life-saving effort was beyond our capabilities. No one really had the time to minister nourishment every hour around the clock. We needed expert help, and wondered where to find it.
By Providence, there was an article in the newspaper that day, appealing to the public for funds and volunteers to aid in the care of injured and sick birds. The article provided a phone number for further information. I dialed the number and explained our problem and was given directions. We found our way to a private home, transformed into an infirmary and outside aviary.
We entered the infirmary crowded with cages and incubators, their feathered occupants in varying stages of recovery. It seemed almost like a scene from "ER" as a team of experts identified Mr. Sparrow and hovered over him, administering antibiotics both orally and topically to his gaping wound. The gentleman in charge, after finding out what we had attempted with the dog food mush, shook his head in amazement.
We left marveling over all this poor bird endured and yet it still clung to life. I called a few days later, not expecting good news, but was told our small, not completely feathered friend was recovering very well.
About a month later, I called again and was told our sparrow was responding well to physical therapy for a foot deformity...perhaps the reason, our curious poodle found it on the ground.
I returned the phone to its place on the wall with a special sense of awe, as I thought of how artfully GOD cares for HIS creatures. HE masterfully sculptured the tender heart of a teen girl to color a sparrow's fragile life with love.
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