The Weasel

The weasel was very cleaver and very adept. He could squirm and squeeze into the tightest cracks and steal the meanest chicken’s egg right out from under her. No farmer or dog could catch him. He was very proud of his ability to slip into tight places and steal eggs under the hardest circumstances. He was the fastest of all the weasels. He used to show off to the other weasels continually. Life was good and he was at the top. But one by one the weasels disappeared. The farmer or his dog got a few. Others wandered off because of fear of the farmer and yet other died in various ways. Soon the weasel was left alone.

Alone can be a terrible thing. What good is it to be able to slip and slither into the tightest spots when there is no one to see? What good is it to steal the farmer’s eggs when there is no one to notice? The weasel began to be fearful too. The other weasels had died maybe he would die. He no longer ran to be fast, or stole eggs. He slept a lot and stayed alone. He was very unhappy and miserable. He quietly crawled in to the hallow of an old log by the creek and went to sleep.
GoldenMinistries on 03.29.04 @ 12:04 AM CST [more..]