So, when I pointed out the caterpillar doing its own version of rushing across the parking lot, she immediately stopped. She went over to see it. And she decided she needed to save it.
"We can't leave it here," she told me when I said we didn't have time.
"It'll be fine," I told her, "It's moving fast."
"It has a long way to go. Someone else could step on it."
Now, if this girl could save every bug and give it a home, she would. Last year we had tomato hornworms overtaking our garden. To us they were pests. Nothing more than a nuisance.
But she was in awe. She caught one. And talked to it. And gave it a name.
"Wormy."
To her Wormy wasn't a pest. Or an inconvenience. Or a nuisance.
To her he was amazing. And interesting. And worthy of everything good.
Just like the caterpillar in front of us now. She saw its worth too.
"We're late," my husband reminded again.
I knew if I left that caterpillar on the pavement, my granddaughter would not be able to stop thinking about it. And for this little bug lover to worry about its sure death while we were in Church, was not an option for me.
But I needed this rescue operation to happen quickly.
Because the urgency we felt over our lateness was getting bigger by the second.
I found a piece of paper in my purse and helped little Miss M'aam pick it up. I grabbed her hand and started walking to the tree line next to us. The same direction the caterpillar had been coming from.
"He wasn't going that way," she said matter-of-factly. "He was going over there," she pointed across the parking lot five times the distance from where I wanted to place him.
I looked at my son. The one who is starting his first year as a second-grade teacher in two weeks. He just smiled. Because he knew what I was facing. She, after all, was one of the main reasons he wanted to be a teacher.
I shook my head and said nothing. There were no words. I knew the caterpillar had not been heading where I wanted to put him. But wasn't getting him to safety enough? Was this even our problem?
My mind did all the calculations in hyper speed. The easy way. Or the one that would bring peace to a six-year-old heart.
I grabbed her hand and started navigating through the parked cars, holding my breath that the now rolled up caterpillar didn't fall off the paper before we completed our journey.
Because then we would be faced with a whole other set of things to explain.
And being late would be the least of our concerns.
Thankfully the caterpillar held on like a champ and found a new spot in the grass.
As we finally walked into Church and sat down, I thought about something. My granddaughter is much too young to understand everything that happens inside that building. And God doesn't just dwell inside those walls.
But she has a firm grasp on helping those around her. And doing what she's able to do without worrying about everything else.
She finds worth in what others may think is worthless.
She isn't satisfied with taking the easy way. Not when it matters.
She looks for the good. And just as importantly, wants the good, for everyone and everything.
She loves with her whole heart.
Just as Jesus asks us to do.
She may not understand it all, but I realized her heart radiates His message.
And I'd be good to slow down sometimes and respond more like her.
Because Jesus was right there in that parking lot.
And little Miss M'aam wasn't about to pass Him by.
Colleen LaQuay Urbaniuk @thegiftofmondays
