A Slithering Snake, A Two Year Old, and His Grammy

Today I filled in my little pond. You would think I would have learned my lesson years ago, but no. Not me. And I filled in this pond for the very same reason I filled in my pond 25 years ago when I lived in California. Snakes.

I hate snakes. They slither and they are slimy and sneaky and I don’t care for them one bit. But about a week ago, I forgot about my dislike for snakes. I forgot they get thirsty as they slither along on the rocky pathways of your backyard. And, I forgot they like little bite-size fish.

So, my two year old grandson and his mom and I went to the pet store to buy some little orange goldfish to put in our newly made pond. Because I would do anything that makes my two year old grandson smile. We put them in the water as soon as we got home as the plastic bag they were in was just about to lose its contents from ‘somebody’s’ finger having put three holes in the bag in an attempt to capture and really ‘hold’ the fish.

They all seemed fine in their new home. Until the next morning. There were only 7 out of 8 left. I wrote it off to two-year-old induced traumatic circumstances. By the end of the first week, there was one left and on that day – today – is when I saw it. The snake. All three plus feet of it slithering from the pond toward the back gate and way too close to my two year old grandson who was trying to figure out how to turn on the sprinkler. I ran and grabbed my grandson as I screamed for my husband to get outside ASAP, no – NOW! As he rounded the corner, I saw he was barefoot and I screeched at him to not come down the stairs. I didn’t care what the neighbors were thinking right about now. My husband was probably wondering how I could all of a sudden be so loud given I have PD. It’s the speech therapy, dear. And the slithering snake.

As soon as I saw my grandson was safe, I went for my shovel. The sharpest one I had. I asked my husband what kind of snake he thought it was, pointing out it had no rattlers but it sure resembled a rattler. I’ve heard that baby rattlers didn’t always have their baby rattles yet, but I was pretty certain it wasn’t a baby considering it was over four feet long.

I ran around the raspberries to get on the other side of the direction he was slithering toward and stopped him as he watched for my next move. I raised the shovel to which he raised his head and stuck his tongue out. Well, no one sticks their tongue out at me and survives. Except my two year old grandson.

I raised the shovel and before that five foot snake could think about what to do, I brought the blade down in back of his head. He kept moving. I was sure I got him but it didn’t seem so, so I worked at it. And I worked at it and I worked at it some more until, despite his wiggling, I was certain he had met his demise via my dull bladed shovel. I met my fear in the form of a six foot snake and walked away victorious, my grandson safe.

As I sat thinking about this event, a light went on in my little dopamine deprived brain. Could it be that God loves us like a Grammy loves her two year old grandson? That He will do anything and risk life and limb to rid backyards of sly, sneaky enemies, such as seven feet snakes, just because He loves us that much? Silly, I know. But the part that really hit me was when I was attempting to rid the backyard of potential danger against my grandson and the more it wriggled and hissed, the more determined I was to make sure that eight foot python would not return. And that is exactly what God does. He will not stop until we all realize only He is God. Only He can rid the world of the sneaky, lying, slithering serpents that would love to devour us. But it’s our choice whether to believe He will, and then let Him handle the battle.

I don’t know about you but I have fought enough seven foot snakes to last my lifetime. But, I’d do it again if it meant keeping my grandson safe.

In a heart beat.

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