Jesus Saves

Last Thursday, I was headed out the door to get my mid-cycle sonogram.  Somehow, even though I had gotten up in ample time, I found myself cutting it pretty close to the appointment time.  I grabbed my keys, opened the door, and then… hop. Hop. Hop.

A frog, a little frog, was hopping around by the front door.

I weighed my options… I needed to be on time for this appointment.  But, if I left the frog in the house the next time I saw him he would probably be a mummified specimen that one of my dogs was pawing at.  Damn.

I just couldn’t justify my being fear of being a bit late as more important than this frog life.  I didn’t want that sort of froggy karma on my hands.

So, I set about trying to catch the little frog.  Which, my friends, is no simple task.  I am a bit squeamish about slimy things (frogs=slimy), so I didn’t want to catch him with my bare hands (stop calling me a pansy, okay?  I am trying to work with what I’ve got).  But I had seen my yoga teacher catch a wasp in a cup once (so she could release it outside), and I decided that catching a frog in a cup couldn’t be that difficult.

Catching the frog might have been easier if he had understood my intentions.  But, alas, he seemed to think I wanted to use him as the main ingredient in Frog Leg Soup.  His little heart was pounding so hard I was sure he was going to go into cardiac arrest at any moment.  And he was throwing himself against the pane of glass next to our front door, desperately trying to get away.  All of this was rather heartbreaking.

And the minutes were ticking closer to my appointment…

I grabbed a stiff piece of paper and tried to slide it under his back legs.  FLING.  He threw himself against the glass again, heart racing wildly.

I started to tear up.  How the HELL was I going to get this frog out of the house alive?  Leaving him was no longer an option at all.  I didn’t want to hear echoing shouts of “FROG MURDERER” in my head all day.

Suddenly, I am talking to God about a frog.  Just one sentence… it didn’t really require a long conversation:  “Just let him know that I want to help him.”

I slid the paper against his back legs again… and he stayed on the paper!  I took him outside, laid the paper down and he hopped away.  He may have had a little dog hair on him, but, otherwise, he didn’t seem much worse for the wear.

So, there you have it… my honest admission:  I have prayed about a frog.

I guess Jesus even saves frogs.

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