Squirrels, Noodles and Forgiveness

By Kristi Paxton

Our relationship with Fluffy Tail and cohorts is complicated. When we were in college, we were poor, so my big burly husband often stepped out the back door of our rented farm shack and shot a squirrel. Have you ever tasted a squirrel salad sandwich or squirrel and noodles? Minus the tiny hairs, it is remarkably similar to salad and noodles with chicken, but more labor intensive.

Now, thirty-five years later, I often see same burly husband sitting on the deck, now a squirrel chase  spectator. He is weaponless. I imagine the squirrels remind him of olden days, chasing his brothers.

Next day, I might catch hubby on the same deck, armed, nobly taking aim at a squirrel that has managed to eat a hole into our house. I wonder how he could murder our furry friends. (Incidentally, I’ve never seen one go down in combat)

One night during the flood of 2008, we were watching CSI and my husband disappeared outside for a while. He returned and took his place back on the couch. I figured he’d left his mower out in the rain and went to rescue it. No explanation needed.

Two CSI episodes later I heard a persistent squeaky sound coming from the basement.  “What is that noise?” I asked.

“Oh, that’s my pet squirrel. I found him drowning outside, saved him, brought him in and built him a little house with a bed downstairs.” Hubby didn’t look up from his show.

“Yeah, right.” I refused to look at him and dignify his response.

Another CSI episode ended and the squeaking persisted. During commercial break, I got up as if heading for the bathroom, but went downstairs instead. Behind the utility room door was the squeak source. In a tidy box with a neatly folded red washcloth was a baby squirrel, his wet hair plastered to his bony body. He shivered and squeaked at me.

“I met your friend,” I commented, staring at the screen.

“Yeah, he almost drowned and I saved him,” said my husband proudly.

Next morning, “Pink” (We named him “Pink” after the Pink Squirrel beverage) was fully fluffed, full of fleas and ready to join the family. I glanced at our two leering dogs and suggested we release “Pink” far from home. My husband resisted. He’d already bonded with his new baby.

“You know, some day you will have to decide if you want to murder them or adopt them,” I said.

When he left for work, I delivered “Pink,” in his house, still lying in his bed, to the animal rehabilitation expert in our town. I don’t think my husband ever forgave me.

The Real *F*Word

“Excuse me” I said to the back bending over the display of children’s pajamas. No response.

I’d been standing for several seconds behind the busy mom’s shopping cart. Her two cute kiddos sitting in the cart smiled at me and I smiled back with my “universal grandma grin.” I cleared my throat again, a little louder while trying to gauge if I could squeeze by.

The shopping cart was smack in the middle of a narrow gap between two shelves of clothing, a long walk when you’re at the end of the day. I waited a bit more, then gently took hold of the cart handle and lifted it over about 3 inches so I could push by, winking at the big brown-eyed preschoolers as I went.

“Next time say excuse me!” I heard in a harsh tone.

Startled, I replied, “I did” as I continued walking away.

“Not all of us have perfect hearing,” she snarled. When I didn’t respond the ranting began, “That is so rude. You should NEVER touch someone else’s cart…”

I turned around and opened my mouth to tell her that although I was sorry she was having a bad day she wasn’t allowed to take it out on me. What came out of my mouth surprised us both.

“Will you please forgive me for touching your cart?” (Where did THAT come from?)

“WHAT?” she said, as if I’d said another word that begins with the letter “f”.

Between the two of us I honestly don’t know who was more shocked, but I think it may’ve been me. I was surprised that the mere act of apologizing and trying to make things right could elicit such anger.

But maybe I shouldn’t have been. After all, asking for forgiveness is not something our culture is known for. My church had recently finished a sermon series entitled “Forgiveness—The Real *F*-Word”. For five weeks we’d heard about forgiveness, how to forgive others, forgive ourselves, forgive God, and about asking for and receiving forgiveness.
If that weren’t enough, during the same period I’d taught two Sunday School lessons on forgiving to 3-5-year-olds in our Pre-K. Trying to teach such a big concept to little kids challenged me to get to the heart of the matter.  It certainly made me examine my attitudes about forgiving and being forgiven.


I think that all I’d heard and studied must have been mulling in my mind all this time and at the proper time, with no warning to me, the truth that God wanted me to practice just popped out.

“I need to ask you to forgive me,” I said to my fellow shopper. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful by that. I did something that upset you and I’m sorry and I hope you will forgive me.”

The unhappy lecturer continued, “I was worried about my children, you could’ve run off with them. You should never touch someone’s cart with their children in it!”

“I know. You’re right. I shouldn’t have touched your cart. I’m sure you were scared. I have 7 grandkids myself. I’m sorry that happened and I need to ask your forgiveness.”

By this time the woman was utterly confused and more than a little frustrated. No matter what she threw at me I responded the same way as sincerely and meekly as I knew how, by telling her how sorry I was and how I hoped she’d forgive me.

After listening to her for a while longer I finally felt it was time to walk away, leaving her still angry (at me? at the world? at life?) I said once more I hoped she’d forgive me and that I’d learned a valuable lesson from her. She walked away muttering under her breath. But at least she didn’t say she wouldn’t forgive me. I think she was convinced of my sincerity, but was at a loss as to how to react to being asked to forgive.
This was one of those random incidents that get under your skin. I’ve thought on and off about it ever since, starting in the parking lot, asking God “Where did that come from?” I’m glad I asked for forgiveness, I know it was the right thing to do, but it was so unexpected by me and so unappreciated by the one offended.

I’ve come to the conclusion that God had one short lesson for me that day-- Ask For Forgiveness. Don't defend, argue or justify.  It really doesn’t really matter if the actions are innocent, if you've offended someone just suck it up, apologize, and ask for forgiveness. That’s it. Just that simple. Don’t make it a big deal, just humbly ask the person offended to forgive you for the offense.  I learned long ago at a Bill Gothard seminar that even one percent of the blame was enough to ask forgiveness for.

I wish I had a heart-warming ending for this little shopping trip. But I fear the heart that I offended is still cold. But we serve an awesome God. Maybe, somehow, God will use the fact that someone took her concerns seriously and tried to make things right, to speak to her. That is what I’m praying He’ll do.

Lord Jesus you alone know what it takes to soften a hard heart. In your mercy and grace, please call this woman in from the cold to the warmth of your love.

How to forgive myself

BY BRENDA LYSAK

I was miraculously healed of Crohn’s disease when I was twenty seven years old, eleven years after diagnosis. That was the first time I felt loved. Thus began about an eight year search for God. I started attending church again.

Remarkably I was invited by my banker, Dave to get right with God in an unusual way. This was about a three year business relationship. He treated me as an equal. I remember feeling normal around him, all the while on a downward spiral in my personal life.

I grew up in a home where we went to church three times a week but knew nothing of a relationship with God. It was an angry, abusive, and an emotionally neglectful environment. The only emotion I remember is hate. I hated anyone who might have had something to do with my existence.

One day as I sunk deeper into despair, I wailed to God to please help me to be born again; I felt too stupid to figure it out! Even though I had responded to alter calls in my youth, I was haunted by 2 Corinthians 5:17. “When you are born again the old passes away and everything becomes brand new.” The old had instead gotten older and there was certainly no sign of anything new. I experienced deep disappointment with this awareness. I couldn’t give or receive love, was devoid of joy, hope, and faith. I was a very depressed, negative person.

Not too long after that desperate prayer, Dave told me that he knew something that would change my life. Read Romans chapters one through six every day for thirty days. He said that about day fifteen, I would start to get it. And that’s exactly what happened. Romans 1:19 says “God has shown who He is in Creation and written the truth on our hearts. Therefore you have no excuse.”

My moment of awakening is still very fresh in my memory. As I was reading I realized that I had excuses. Suddenly they felt evil. I was filled with enormous guilt, which opened my eyes for the first time to God’s remedy. Every aspect of being saved is addressed in those early chapters of Romans and I fed on those truths day after day, learning that believing is what saves me. Proof or good works are the result of believing.

Dave then encouraged me to add the corresponding chapter of Proverbs each day to the six chapters of Romans I was reading. After I had that down he added five chapters of Psalms. The Word became my daily lifeline. My mind was being washed with God’s ideas. The grip of despair lifted the moment I confessed sin of disbelief and began to trust and believe in God, but I would not realize that until months later.

I became aware of my sin, and lost my preoccupation with other peoples’ sin. This renewal was happening in spite of continued miserable circumstances surrounding me. I was engulfed with shame.

About three months later I realized that I loved God and understood that I had a relationship with Him. This awareness was new to me in every way as I had not experienced normal bonding with a parent.

After reading the whole book of Romans I went to the ‘card catalog’ at the beginning of my Bible to find the next book to read, just like I did at the library. I chose a book in the Old or New Testament and read it like I read any book. Some books of the Bible were short so I read them in a day. Others took several days. I checked each one off with a date as I finished them until I had read each of the sixty-six books.

This resulted in a new measuring stick for truth. I was surprised at God’s take on religion. The gospels give a quick picture of who God is. What a surprise to discover that losers such as myself were exactly who God was particularly interested in. I experienced emotional healing during this time. I had been numb or shut down inside. I can still remember the place and moment I noticed the absence of shame.

Ever since I experienced God through his Word, I have been amazed at the fads of Christianity that sweep through the Christian community. One such fad is the idea that I can forgive myself. I hear people talking about the need to forgive themselves but have not heard of anyone actually accomplishing it. The Bible never speaks of it. Perhaps it is impossible. When we confess our sins, according to 1 John 1:9 we are promised forgiveness. Forgiving ourselves ceases to be an issue.

I am excited that salvation is not just getting my big toe into Heaven someday, but it is for today. I discovered from reading books of the Bible like a book, Salvation is multifaceted; I can be saved from myself, and from situations with people, and from my past. I have no excuse, nor do I need one. I can become healthy and whole in every way.

Brenda Lysak 

I am a Preschool teacher and Certified Barton Tutor for Dyslexia. It's taken me a lifetime to crawl out of the pit I was born in and the ones I crawled in myself. My biggest step of healing after being born again in my spirit has been developing a career within my interests and abilities. I am very busy with teaching but still working out my salvation with fear and trembling. I love to ski when I get a chance to get outside. It helps speed up the long cold Manitoba winters.