The Raccoon Rescue
A Real Life Parable by C. Randall Nicholson
One fine day in early June 2014, I was lounging around at home when my ears were greeted by the sound of something small screaming in the backyard. My first thought was that a kitten was being eaten by a snake, but I didn't think my roommate's kittens could have gotten outside. My second thought was that it might be some kind of obnoxious bird, and with that thought in mind I went outside to yell at it to shut up.
When I say “backyard”, what I mean is that very close to the back corner of the house the terrain dropped off via a steep hill into a forest that extended as far as I could see. It even had a brook like my backyard and forest back home in New York. Anyway, at the top of one of the trees near the top of the hill, almost level with the ground the house sat on, I saw the source of the screams. A raccoon had wandered out too far on a branch and was now holding on for dear life with all four paws as it bent precariously under his weight. (I’m going to call it a “he” just because this seems like something a male would do.) Somewhere in the distance I could hear what I presume was another raccoon screaming back in response, but it wasn’t coming to his rescue.
I was torn for a moment. Back home in New York, the raccoons were our enemies. They ate our cats’ food and they weren’t scared of humans and they could carry rabies, so my father shot them whenever he found them anywhere near the house. So now it occurred to me for a moment that maybe I should throw a rock at this one or something. But I decided just as quickly that circumstances were different here and now and that it was time for a truce.
It took only a few seconds to find a stick long enough to reach his position. I held it out to him, hoping he would be intelligent enough to grasp onto it so that I could then lower him to the ground. It was sturdier than the branch he was on, but I wondered for a moment whether I personally could hold him up on it. I pushed that doubt away. It was the only option we had.
He just looked at the stick, continuing to scream. I tried to talk to him, tried to soothe him and explain my plan, but of course even as I did so I knew it was pointless. Raccoons don’t speak English. A few of them have been known to speak broken French, but not when they’re panicked like this. I just had to keep holding the stick up and hope that sooner or later the right idea would come into his mind.
Well, eventually it did, sort of. He let go of the branch and grabbed the stick with his two front paws. That was a start, and got him out of the immediate danger - he even stopped screaming - but I didn’t feel like standing here for the rest of his life. I tried to coax him to grab on with his back paws, but of course even as I did so I knew it was pointless. I didn’t know the French word for “paws”.
Eventually he figured that out too, and I was able to support him and I lowered him carefully to the ground. Then, as an expression of gratitude for saving his life, he stood there and screamed at me until I shrugged and went back into the house.
Are we not all like this raccoon at times? Please tell me we are, and that it isn’t just me. We wander off on branches of foolishness and sin, and then suddenly realize we’ve gone too far, that we’re in danger and we can’t go back the way we came. Then God, through His son, offers us a way out. (I’m so very sorry that this parable requires me to compare myself to God and/or Jesus. I didn’t make it up.) But so often, we don’t understand. Even when we do come to understand, we’re afraid to fully let go of our branch and fully embrace Him. Do we trust Him? Our current precarious situation may be terrifying, but the unknown may be even more terrifying. Do we have the faith to exchange the one for the other?
And even after He has rescued us, sometimes we don’t realize what’s happened. Instead of being grateful, we resent Him for one reason or another, and we scream at Him. How many of the trials and disappointments we’ve experienced will someday turn out to have been in our own best interests? How many things that we’ve complained and yelled about in mortality will we someday fall on our knees and thank God for?
Two days after this incident, the hill I’d been standing at the top of was erased by a landslide and for safety reasons I had to leave that house for a couple months while it was repaired. I feel like that must have been my fault somehow. Oops.
When I say “backyard”, what I mean is that very close to the back corner of the house the terrain dropped off via a steep hill into a forest that extended as far as I could see. It even had a brook like my backyard and forest back home in New York. Anyway, at the top of one of the trees near the top of the hill, almost level with the ground the house sat on, I saw the source of the screams. A raccoon had wandered out too far on a branch and was now holding on for dear life with all four paws as it bent precariously under his weight. (I’m going to call it a “he” just because this seems like something a male would do.) Somewhere in the distance I could hear what I presume was another raccoon screaming back in response, but it wasn’t coming to his rescue.
I was torn for a moment. Back home in New York, the raccoons were our enemies. They ate our cats’ food and they weren’t scared of humans and they could carry rabies, so my father shot them whenever he found them anywhere near the house. So now it occurred to me for a moment that maybe I should throw a rock at this one or something. But I decided just as quickly that circumstances were different here and now and that it was time for a truce.
It took only a few seconds to find a stick long enough to reach his position. I held it out to him, hoping he would be intelligent enough to grasp onto it so that I could then lower him to the ground. It was sturdier than the branch he was on, but I wondered for a moment whether I personally could hold him up on it. I pushed that doubt away. It was the only option we had.
He just looked at the stick, continuing to scream. I tried to talk to him, tried to soothe him and explain my plan, but of course even as I did so I knew it was pointless. Raccoons don’t speak English. A few of them have been known to speak broken French, but not when they’re panicked like this. I just had to keep holding the stick up and hope that sooner or later the right idea would come into his mind.
Well, eventually it did, sort of. He let go of the branch and grabbed the stick with his two front paws. That was a start, and got him out of the immediate danger - he even stopped screaming - but I didn’t feel like standing here for the rest of his life. I tried to coax him to grab on with his back paws, but of course even as I did so I knew it was pointless. I didn’t know the French word for “paws”.
Eventually he figured that out too, and I was able to support him and I lowered him carefully to the ground. Then, as an expression of gratitude for saving his life, he stood there and screamed at me until I shrugged and went back into the house.
Are we not all like this raccoon at times? Please tell me we are, and that it isn’t just me. We wander off on branches of foolishness and sin, and then suddenly realize we’ve gone too far, that we’re in danger and we can’t go back the way we came. Then God, through His son, offers us a way out. (I’m so very sorry that this parable requires me to compare myself to God and/or Jesus. I didn’t make it up.) But so often, we don’t understand. Even when we do come to understand, we’re afraid to fully let go of our branch and fully embrace Him. Do we trust Him? Our current precarious situation may be terrifying, but the unknown may be even more terrifying. Do we have the faith to exchange the one for the other?
And even after He has rescued us, sometimes we don’t realize what’s happened. Instead of being grateful, we resent Him for one reason or another, and we scream at Him. How many of the trials and disappointments we’ve experienced will someday turn out to have been in our own best interests? How many things that we’ve complained and yelled about in mortality will we someday fall on our knees and thank God for?
Two days after this incident, the hill I’d been standing at the top of was erased by a landslide and for safety reasons I had to leave that house for a couple months while it was repaired. I feel like that must have been my fault somehow. Oops.
