My son fell in love with three worms back in the Spring. He and his brother discovered them in some damp earth and had a grand time playing with them. There was a tiny worm, a large worm and a smaller, middlish worm. He was very gentle, and then it was time to come in. He found me in my bedroom late, crying because he was concerned that a bird might find his friends and eat them.
We talked about hungry baby birdies, and he grappled with that truth of life. The idea that really helped was remembering that God was taking care of the worms before he picked them up and God is still taking care of them now that Peter has put them down. I thought worms had a short lifespan, but they live about seven years which is long for something so small. Those worms will hopefully do very well for many summers to come, at least the tiny one anyway. They will probably do better long-term in God's care than they would in Peter's, and so will Peter instead of mine. I'll have my anxious nights too, but it will help when I remember that one.
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