Finding Optimism in View of Suffering
A murderous hawk and a sleeping squirrel show us the way through struggle
A screech scared me out of my dawn bird feeding. Holding the cold metal pail, I looked for the sound and saw a squirrel tumbling out of a tree like a bridge jumper on his way down. Adult squirrels are excellent climbers and witnessing a fall is rare. Out of sight and below me somewhere he screached again. Then I saw a large hawk flying out of the same tree where the squirrel had just been. Into the orange-streaked sky he went, leaving my friend behind.
Injured? Dead? A near miss? “Mr. Squirrel!” I called. It was the hawk I wanted to chastise but I was humbled by his need to murder in order to survive. My voice sounded pathetic and small and too human in the tall dark oaks. What could I do? My voice alone couldn’t even make the dog return when I wanted her.
So much is bigger than us. So much seems unjust by our human way of living. So much is not ours to right. But we are here as witnesses. We suffer pains that were not aimed at us. We remember long after the witnessing. We share with each other, questioning if we are doing enough—checking around corners for evidence of our own failing. In this way, we keep ourselves whole. Human. We will not let the suffering caused by another’s wrong create a monster in us. Suffering is our saving. Maybe not enough to save the squirrel, but enough to keep us humble.