One of our daily routines is morning coffee at our little antique kitchen table. We spend time reading, chatting, and observing the creatures outside our three kitchen windows. The bird feeders (and it is an elaborate system M designed) are set at the cusp of the wilderness beyond. This area is a constant theatre of creature action throughout the day, but most especially in the early morning. Beyond the bird action, we also behold the squirrel shenanigans. As many people who have bird feeders know, this joy of providing birds a varied and consistent source of food is offset by an ongoing adversarial relationship with the squirrels. M will knock on the windows to distract these creative creatures who come up with endless ways to ravage the bounty provided.  These brazen social acrobats leap from high tree limbs and fly through the air to outsmart any “squirrel proof” feeder or baffle in their path. We also have a clever pair of bunnies who frequently appear who sit up on their hind legs to swipe at the squirrels in intimidation while feeding from the scraps on the ground. It is unrelenting and yet so remarkably entertaining to observe the problem solving of these creatures in real time.

There is a soft place in my soul for all creatures great and small (well, maybe not snakes, but they have purpose too). One recent morning as I started to pull out of the driveway a squirrel was laying in the street, recently hit by a car and slowly expiring. Another squirrel stood guard screeching, perhaps a mate or sibling. I cut the engine and retrieved our large snow shovel in the garage to gently lift the dying squirrel off the road and into the wooded area beside our home. The same squirrel guarding watched this action from a safer distance then once again attended the dying squirrel when I stepped away. I stood at a distance and marveled as three other squirrels joined the scene; what a fascinating symphony of various orchestral players structured in multiple movements, tempos, sounds, and emotional expression as they helped the squirrel transition…

So, my perceived view of squirrels has quietly shifted this spring during our morning routine. While they appear to dominate one moment, the squirrels will suddenly give way for birds to gather on the feeders while bunnies and chipmunks feast on the ground. Occasionally, a curious squirrel wanders to our windows searching for other options. During this closer proximity, it is possible to notice the way the morning light reflects through a squirrel’s multi-colored fur and how their translucent ears and delicate eye markings showcase their sleek bodies. Their powerful flexibility is unmistakable, especially in those fluffy tails. Seeing a squirrel’s physicality more closely shifts the hardness of perception into a softer reality. Not surprisingly, this usually occurs when I let go of what I thought about something to study in more detail what is actually in front of me. Hmmm…

There are many hard things happening throughout our country and the world each day. A deep awareness of what is heavy and rigid within my own heart and soul resides within my family and community life as well. Even in his deepening journey with Alzheimer’s, daddy unknowingly also demonstrates how the hardness of changes yields gently into softness. In all its burst of colorful glory, these spring months already feel softer than the harshness of the past winter, thus encouraging gentler ways to cushion the day. Softening things like routines, conversations, health journeys, and daily pressures allows a surrendering to wonder, hope, joy, and yes, even squirrels. As momma often quipped: “Be bendable (softness) and not breakable (hardness).”

Friends, may a hardness in your own life transform gently into a softness for you!