|Our New Tasteful Green Fence|
There it was again, a definite death squeal! They were coming now in greater rapidity. Every bit of adrenalin within me forced my thinking into a fight or flight mode; I swung open the back door and literally dove to the source of the cry, all the time expecting to find the worst. As I took my first glance around the corner of the house, I was immediately confronted by our youngest grandchild, gripped in a panicked fear. He was clinging on for dear life, clutching white knuckled to the top of the gate, while his small body dangled limp underneath.
|Taking Our Dog Buster For A Swim In The River|
The gated and fenced yard is relatively new. We were obliged to put up the fence or place our dog on a chain. Since Psalm 36 says, God takes care of both people and animals; I had no heart to restrict him to a two meter chain. Our neighbors seed beds of summer vegetables were springing up everywhere with vibrant life, and our dog was not being very neighborly about them. His adventurous spirit took him across grass and garden alike, without concern for the tender and delicate shoots. My choice, much to everyone’s delight, was the tastefully green wire mesh fence. (See the top photo of our back yard.) It is two meters high as are the gates. It was the perfect but costly solution. Unfortunately, for the little gradkids, we have to keep the gates keyed because ‘Buster,’ has learned how to depress the handle and open them. Why didn’t anyone tell us just how smart German Shepherds are?
Noah, our grandson, decided to climb up the locked gate, instead of waiting and doing his usual calling for grandma to come and unlock it for him. His four year old sentence goes something like this. “This is Noah grandma, at the gate.” His baby pitched voice penetrates any and all household gadgets, which might be ‘whirring,’ ‘buzzing,’ or ‘whining.’ Since the gate is directly under the kitchen window, grandma responds immediately to his requests with; “Grandma, is coming Nobie (that’s his nickname).” Having reached the top with his tiny hands gripping the bar he had nowhere to dig in his shoes. He was hanging down with arms totally out stretched and his feet clawing to find some kind of a foothold. With a fountain of tears cascading down his face, he now bemoaned this unfortunate fate.
|At The War Memorial|
Children are well skilled from birth and by natural instinct to let their needs be known by “Screaming.” I remember when Noline and I brought home our first child from the hospital; we would hover over Deborah’s crib with bated breath, making sure we could see her tiny chest moving up and down as her lungs filled and exhaled with air. We noted and listened to every little whimper, squeak or grunt. And we, as proud and dutiful new parents, doted on her every whim and desire. She soon learned that with every half hearted moan, she was immediately picked up and cuddled until she fell asleep again. She had us well trained and when we did not respond quick enough she screamed. However, with our second daughter, Heather, we were much more discerning. It had to be the definite cry of “OK! I’m starving parents, how about feeding me!” And then by the time we had our third child, a son, we were at the point with Deryk where it had to be a near death experience before we moved from a deep sleep to attend to him.
|A Happier Noah!|
Within a nano second of my keen observation, I had assessed the right response to this critical situation. I simultaneously reached for the key with one hand and turned the lock; my other hand was immediately on the handle, and with lightening speed I gently swung open the gate. On a different occasion, Noah might have enjoyed the ride. My words were loud enough to override the noise of his crying, but soft and reassuring for him to know, he was in good hands. “Papa’s got you Nobie,” I said, as I reached out and undergirded him and lifted his minute weight off the strain on his hands. Instantly, after being relieved of the gravitational pull downwards and feeling the strength of Papa lifting him up, his yells turned into gentle sobs. I then enjoyed what all grand parents live for. He instinctively put his arms around my neck and rested his head on my shoulder. I loved every minute of being Superman to him.
But it was at that same moment, I could not suppress my smile and internal giggle. You see, Noah imagined a demise of falling into a deep canyon hundreds of feet below, when in actuality he was only 5 inches away from the ground.