Life lessons from a toad

Tonight was one of those rainy evenings when the smell of drowning earthworms and the taste of clean, moist air inspire introspection and speculation...

As I drove home from Starbucks in the dusky wetness, with rain splooshing noisily on the windshield, I was listening to the silence, rehashing parts of conversation that Kirsten and I had had at Starbucks that evening, and basking in the warm glow of friendship when my musings were interrupted by the lonely journey of a solitary toad.

He looked decidedly waterlogged and deeply pathetic as he hopped miserably across the pavement in front of my headlights, water droplets dripping from his warty nose as he bounced listlessly along.

I thought, as I watched him, of how often in this past year I've allowed myself to become disillusioned and discouraged by the seemingly overwhelming reality of hopping through the rain, failing to remember that the sun will come again another day, and that as I face the frightening reality of a relatively unknown future, I do so from beneath the protective feathers of a gracious and loving heavenly Father.

He disappeared into the ditch, and I drove on with new food for thought, smiling to myself. It was right about then that I saw the second toad.

There were several hops...perfectly executed, in a clumsy sort of way...and then...a dull klunk.

What a sad day in Toadville! Another unassuming amphibian has gone to meet his Maker. But the sun will rise to shine another day...and may his children's children sincerely take to heart his premortem admonition concerning the dangers of playing in the street.

I drove on, the shameless perpetrator of a hit-and-run accident, and while I'm embarrassed to admit this, my smile had broadened just a wee bit...

Thank God for the lessons to be learned from the insignificant things of life! And please, for the sake of your safety, don't play in the street.