Years ago when our son was little we bought him a gerbil, who, according to the immense knowledge of the local pet store employee, was a male. Much to our surprise several days later we woke up to the sight of not only one gerbil, but four tiny little additions to the cage! One was stillborn, but the other three thrived and our son was ecstatic!
We renamed the mother Olive because she was black, and we named the little ones Thunder, Nutmeg and Dexter. Due to her mothering duties we, of course, could not hold Olive or the babies, but our son spent what seemed like hours watching them. At long last they were big enough to hold, but still oh so tiny, and I have to admit even I took delight in playing with them.
But soon after we realized that they weren’t so active, in fact, they appeared to have runny noses and were breathing heavier than normal. That sent us into a dither, I mean, do vet’s even see sick gerbils? Well, apparently not, so we began a search online and discovered that the little things were prone to an upper respiratory illness similar to one that bird’s can get and all the experts suggested using the same medicine to treat it. So we rushed out and bought some, because, quite honestly, seeing your little boy in tears over the possible loss of his beloved pets was more than enough incentive.
So dropper by dropper we nursed the babies back to health. Nutmeg and Thunder bounced back and were soon running all over the cage. But Dexter was having a hard time, and despite our best efforts, he was getting worse.
For several nights, after my boys were asleep, I would take the little thing in my hand, gently stroke his fur, and pray. He was so tiny, lying there cupped in the palm of my hand, only about as big as my little finger, struggling to breathe so valiantly that it broke my heart to watch him fight. One night he was struggling even harder, taking one deep shuddering breath after another, and I could feel him trembling in my hand. Then, with one last breath he quietly, gently slipped away.
Let me just say that I lost it, I bawled like a baby. I know, I know, he was just a gerbil, you probably are saying, but you know what, little Dexter was more than a gerbil. He was loved. He was cherished. He was the beloved pet of a little boy who had gone to bed that night with a prayer for healing on his lips.
It reminded me about God’s love, and how we are in His hands.
You’ve all heard the song, “He’s got the whole world, in His hands”, well that night brought it to life like nothing else. The Bible says this in Job 12:10…”For the life of every living thing is in his hand, and the breath of every human being.” (NLT)
Just as little Dexter lay in my hand, struggling for life, so are we in the hands of God. Through all of our trials and the challenges we face, through all of the good times, and all the bad, no matter where we find ourselves in life, we are in God’s hands.
We can find rest in the hands that hold the world because we are loved…we are cherished. We are more than just gerbils in a cage, we are God’s children.