The Marsh Hawk had been hanging around the barn for days. It had the resident sparrows and mice terrified; even the chickens were uneasy. According to my bird book, it was a female and was too small to be a threat to the chickens, so I relaxed and enjoyed her beautiful presence.
One evening, going in to do chores, I was surprised to see her perched on a low stall door. She didn’t budge even when the dogs circled around the bottom of the door looking and sniffing. I called them away and went to have a closer look. While I stood and wondered why she didn’t fly away, she slowly toppled to the floor. She couldn’t be left down where the dogs could get her, so carefully avoiding the sharp talons, I picked her up to put her into a safer place. As I lifted her, she slowly swiveled her head to stare me right in the face. It was the most piercing and unutterably sad look that can be imagined; I could feel it deep inside me. It was as if two of God’s creatures were communicating.
I tried several things to help but it was too late. She soon died and I was left with a strange, empty feeling that I chided myself for having.
A few weeks later, I was to receive a phone call that, in hind sight, I can see was the same sort of sad reaching out. Once again, I could do nothing to help.
Ann called me the day before she killed herself. That call will replay in my mind the rest of my life as I search for clues and wonder what I could have said differently. After days of grief, shock and guilt, I was finally able to lean on our Father and let it go, knowing that all things are in His hand.
Ann was our neighbor — a good one. She and her husband, Don, drove Leslie and me to the hospital when Troy was injured. They stayed with us in the waiting room, long into the night. She went to the bank the next day and started an account in my name and deposited money in it. She didn’t think Troy would live and, in any event, she didn’t want me to worry about bills for a few weeks. Those were the more notable acts of kindness. There have been hundreds of small ones through the years.
Ann, the kind, thoughtful, responsible one, in the end, did the most cruel, irresponsible thing that a person can do. She left her family and loved ones devastated. They wandered about dazed as if shell-shocked.
The hardest thing for me is that she never accepted the Truth. I always thought that eventually she would. We had Bible classes with them but they slowly fizzled out. Now Ann, like the hawk, has returned forever to the dust of the ground (Psa. 49:10-12).
Within a few weeks, I had seen the eyes and heard the voice of death and was helpless before it. But there is One who will help and He offers us great hope if we will wholly unite with the death and the life of His Son.
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One