The Frog Prince

I noticed the little frog right away when I raised the blinds on a kitchen window over the sink. The window overlooks the swimming pool, which is surrounded by tall trees that are home to many species of tree frogs. Worried that he would jump in the water and be unable to get out, I hurried out to the yard and approached the pool. The South Florida sun is strong, even in morning and I could already feel its glaring yellow heat on me.

The little frog didn’t move as I bent closer to him and it was then I could see that he was dead. Judging from his condition, he had most likely fallen in the pool during the night and managed to get out, but not before the chlorine had burned his delicate membranes.

In sorrow, I continued to study this little creature, his intricate veins, his tiny hands, the spots over his eyes-so still. His normally moist, pale green skin was turning black and shiny, reminding me of a mummy. Small ants had begun to gather around the frog’s legs. I couldn’t help but notice the expression on the frog’s face. His bulbous eyes were semi-closed, one eye nearly destroyed and hanging from his face. His head was tilted to one side, much the same way that my dog Luke cocks his head when he is curious. In this frozen posture, the frog seemed to be listening to the wind and the song of the mocking bird from above, on a power line.

I felt a tremendous throb of compassion for this little creature, who must have been struggling and in pain as he tried to escape the pool. I wished I would have been there to rescue him when he fell. Not wanting to leave his body decomposing on the deck, I walked to the edge of the yard and found two leafy branches. I gently lifted him from the deck, intending to put him under a shady palm tree.

To my complete astonishment, the frog suddenly leapt from the branches and back into the pool, where he swam with the grace and vigor that one would expect from a healthy amphibian. I grabbed the pool skimmer and quickly scooped him out, placing him under a gardenia plant; surrounded by soft fragrant petals, he grew still once more. I collected some rainwater from a drain, poured it over him and went back inside the house.

Some time later when I checked on him, he was dead, his spirit given over to The Great One. A thought suddenly burst in my mind. It is not we who move through life. It is Life that moves through us. I felt awed and priveledged to have witnessed Life passing through the body of this little frog one last time, Life that made him magnificent and graceful, in spite of his tremendous infirmity and pain.

We are all stronger than we think we are.

Let the Light find you!

Xoxo Annie