God lives outside with the dogs

There is a little girl named Joan who sits up in an apricot tree, everyday after school. She is slightly overweight and self conscious, yet watching the birds flitter about her helps dissolves the looming awkwardness she feels towards herself. She looks up to a small sparrow close by, and asks, “Why don’t I fit in? And, why do they call me names and hurt me when I’ve done nothing?” Even though Joan has a few fresh bluish-red bruises on her tiny wrists and arms, the sparkle in the girl’s green eyes has not diminished. In her childlike innocence, she looks towards the sparrow for answers as the little bird hops a little closer to her on the overhanging branch. Joan feels comforted by the bird. She notices that the sparrow has a chocolate brown mask outlining his eyes, so she knows the young bird is a boy and decides to call him “Hope.”

“Thank-you for being my friend Hope, the little girl says out loud, but now I have to go back home to do my homework and I double wish he’s not there to hurt me.” Hope cocks his head slightly sideways in response to the little girl’s soft words.

With a tomboy ease, Joan scrambles down the tree, and momentarily stops to pick a few ripe apricots left in the season, which she gently tucks and ties into her baggy shirt to eat on the way home.

As the little girl leaves the orchard and reaches the housing pavement of her family’s community, she is nervously projecting outward in her mind on the probability of a certain blue sports car in the drive way, even slightly concentrating that the ‘shine of gloom’ will be absent as she rounds the corner into her cul de sac.

AHHHH, Joan sighs in relief… no blue car. “Thank-you Hope,” as she glances into the sky, thinking her new friend is listening close by. She answers to herself, “You are a good sign, maybe even sent as my angel… I really hope so.”

Fall was in the air, and the leaves were changing into a kaleidoscope of golden colors, which meant for Joan, her daily tree visits with Hope after school would come to an end. She knew the birds went somewhere, she just didn’t know where. Her teacher, Mrs. Taylor said they flew south for the winter, yet secretly she prayed that Hope and his winged family would stay. Joan wasn’t ever taught to pray, in fact when her family took her to church a few times a year on the Christmas and Easter holidays, she felt that the God they spoke about was actually living outside… in the chirping of birds, running dogs, blooming flowers, trees swaying, and ocean waves crashing. The building seemed empty, yet all the while filled with people dressed up and attending to the rituals of standing up and sitting down over and over again. All of this seemed confusing for little Joan, so during an outing, she asked her mum, “Why do we go inside this church when God is outside?” Her mother’s simply replied, “It’s tradition dear.”

Early into winter, little Joan walked briskly home from school after her 6th grade soccer practice. She was embarrassed wearing the yellow-orange jersey of her team, yet it was too cold to take the stinky shirt off. The popular girls in her class had been yelling at her while she played on the field, calling out, “Go butterball,” and “Come on fatso.” Joan felt ashamed, as tears rolled down her dirt-lined face… yet all the while, pretending that it didn’t bother her. She longed to be up in her favorite tree with her little friend, yet Hope and his family had already left soon after the tree had dropped its leaves. She missed him, and wondered to herself, why can’t people be nice like birds are. They ask for little, only needing a few seeds or food, listen well, busy singing sweetly, or patiently preening the feathers of one another.

When Joan overheard her mum mentioning “the birds and the bees,” with her older siblings, she thought it was probably all about the birds’ kindness and care.

The one bright moment of winter for Joan was her birthday, which was the day after Valentine’s Day. Joan saw this as another good sign, since Valentine’s day is all about hearts and love… and yes, the sweet chocolate she adored and everyone mostly shared, regardless if one was overweight or not. This was really the only time that little Joan felt she had the permission to eat her chocolate bars and hearts without much ridicule.

That year around her birthday, her parents brought home a young German Shepard dog and Joan was over the moon with delight!

She thought it would be given to her as a birthday gift, yet her mum explained that “Rex” was going to be the family’s shared pet. Regardless of what her mother had told her, every day after school, Joan quickly returned home to play with Rex before her homework, chores, and dinner time.

Rex and Joan bonded like Hope and Joan did, so the little girl’s loneliness didn’t feel quite as lonely and eventually, her uneasiness with living was replaced with Rex’s smiling face, happy licks, and wagging tail!

After some months of close companionship, Rex followed Joan everywhere in the house, which was less frequent when the little girl’s father was home. He believed a dog should be kept outside, even in the cold, and not inside “messing up the place.”

One evening during a least favorite dinner meal, Joan was left at the marble kitchen table to finish what was on her plate, while her father allowed her brothers and sister to leave the table. He sternly announced that Joan must eat all of his homemade spaghetti sauce (filled with yucky peppers and onions) before she could be excused. During what seemed like forever to the little girl sitting at the table, Rex was briefly allowed into the warm house, immediately seeking out Joan at the kitchen table. In between the reflux of trying to swallow small bites, Joan was poking at her food, yet she put down her fork to welcome Rex as he faithfully sat beneath her. During this special time, Joan’s older sister rushed into the living room, fabricating to her parents that her little “fat sister” was feeding the family dog the spaghetti she was suppose to be eating. A FAT LIE!

Within moments of that utterance, an angry man crossed the living room, dining room, and into the kitchen, and without a word of finding out the truth or explanation, forcefully whacked the side of the little girl’s head so hard that it hit the edge of the thick marble table, cracking little Joan’s nose. Blood poured out all over the kitchen chairs and oddly, matching the deep rue of the Italian red sauce. Rex the dog was then abruptly dragged outside into the backyard with the sliding glass door slammed directly behind him.

Again, chaos unfolded within the family’s walls, and Joan’s mother rushed to take her little girl to the hospital’s emergency.

It was Easter, and after the doctors’ visit and stitches, the nurses gave little Joan a few balloons to cheer her up as she sat in a wheelchair waiting to be released.

Returning back home, Rex was surprisedly allowed inside for the entire evening, and stayed by Joan’s bed til the early next morning. Maybe that allowance was the apology, but no admittance of truth was ever given to the little girl. Joan’s sister and father carried on as if it never happened, except the violent incident left a noticeable bump and scar on little Joan’s nose, even into her adulthood.

Later, when asked by her teacher what had happened, Joan simply said that some of her family members had not learned about “the birds and the bees,” nor knew that God lives outside with the dogs.