i love all creatures, but . . .
By Becky Lyn Rickman, Managing Editor
A definitive look at the stuff we're made of and where it ends.

Most of us are nurturers from birth. We love all things breathing and living, particularly if they are smaller or more helpless than we are.
But even the most caring have their limitations. This is a brilliant illustration that backs up that statement:
It happened a few weeks ago. I was driving through a rural area not far from my home and came to a fork in the road. I had to slow down because there was a mother and her teenaged daughter standing in the middle of the fork looking down at something. I panicked, thinking maybe they had hit a small animal, but discovered the truth when the mother reached down and picked up a box turtle and began to walk toward the open field with it.
As I drove past, I slowed down and rolled down my window, thanking her for taking care of one of God's most peaceful creatures.
This was the conversation:
"Thank you so much for doing that! I think it was a wonderful thing to do. They are so cute and move so slowly."
"No, I don't think you understand."
I gave her a puzzled look.
"My daughter wanted to take it home as a pet and care for it. However, when she reached down to pick it up, she discovered a spider on its shell. That was the end of that."
We all laughed and I at once understood. Inside all of us is an overwhelming need to nurture what is small and helpless. We can't help ourselves—with one distinct exception. Most of us shut that love off when it comes to those critters with eight legs. They can fend for themselves. And when other creatures hang with the cursed spider, we find them guilty by association and suddenly remember a dozen things we should be doing instead.
But even the most caring have their limitations. This is a brilliant illustration that backs up that statement:
It happened a few weeks ago. I was driving through a rural area not far from my home and came to a fork in the road. I had to slow down because there was a mother and her teenaged daughter standing in the middle of the fork looking down at something. I panicked, thinking maybe they had hit a small animal, but discovered the truth when the mother reached down and picked up a box turtle and began to walk toward the open field with it.
As I drove past, I slowed down and rolled down my window, thanking her for taking care of one of God's most peaceful creatures.
This was the conversation:
"Thank you so much for doing that! I think it was a wonderful thing to do. They are so cute and move so slowly."
"No, I don't think you understand."
I gave her a puzzled look.
"My daughter wanted to take it home as a pet and care for it. However, when she reached down to pick it up, she discovered a spider on its shell. That was the end of that."
We all laughed and I at once understood. Inside all of us is an overwhelming need to nurture what is small and helpless. We can't help ourselves—with one distinct exception. Most of us shut that love off when it comes to those critters with eight legs. They can fend for themselves. And when other creatures hang with the cursed spider, we find them guilty by association and suddenly remember a dozen things we should be doing instead.
Like Becky Lyn Rickman's story? Here's more by her:
MilitaReality—a brat's perspective
Being There
How I still haven't learn to keep my smart mouth shut!
Cacti and Geraniums
Some mysterious goosebumps or "What is that on the wall?"
Finding my metal in wood
Some of my favorite herbal recipes are . . .
I love my cat, but . . .
You might be addicted to Harry Potter if . . .
My shot at the big time
A cautionary tale
Why I do it
How I chill
How to clean up an egg and other helpful hints
Most embarrassing moments—automotive edition
The thing about getting older is . . .
MilitaReality—a brat's perspective
Being There
How I still haven't learn to keep my smart mouth shut!
Cacti and Geraniums
Some mysterious goosebumps or "What is that on the wall?"
Finding my metal in wood
Some of my favorite herbal recipes are . . .
I love my cat, but . . .
You might be addicted to Harry Potter if . . .
My shot at the big time
A cautionary tale
Why I do it
How I chill
How to clean up an egg and other helpful hints
Most embarrassing moments—automotive edition
The thing about getting older is . . .
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, click a button on any page to send email with details of the request.