She was about to holler not to slam the screen door again but as she turned,
she saw her four year old grandson, Jacob, with tears streaming down his face.

"Grandma," he wept, "the worm got dead."
In his outstretched and somewhat grubby little hands
he had cradled an earthworm.

"Oh my, Jacob ... bring him here to me! Yes, dear child, he did get dead."
"Why, Grandma?"
"Hmmm ... well perhaps that mama robin in the maple tree
was going to feed him to her babies
and she could have dropped him. How sad, but honey, don't cry.
We'll take care of him."

"How?"

"We'll have a celebration for him ... a celebration is like a birthday party ...
or like Christmas and all those nice things. When someone dies, we call it a funeral."
"People die?!?! Are you going to die, Grandma?!?!"
"Not now, Jacob ... we have work to do and then we'll bake some cookies ... OK?"

"OK but I'm still sad."

"Go into that big carton and find me a nice box for the worm ...
you know where I mean ... the boxes I keep for gifts."
Jacob took off running and returned with a jewelry box
his Grandma had saved in case she'd need one for a bracelet.
"It's got cotton in it, Grandma!"
"Good, Jacob. Now the worm will feel snuggled ... put him in there.
Now go to my garden basket and get my digging thing ... you know, the trowel."

Jacob zoomed off again.
"C'mon honey ... we'll go out into the garden and find a special place for him."
She didn't complain as he again slammed the screen door
and they wandered in the garden
until they found a very sunny spot where nothing had popped up.
"There, Grandma! Dig here!"

The burial was complete ... or was it?

"How will we remember where we put him, Grandma?"
"We'll use a grave marker ...
like a monument but it should be something special the worm would like.
Take my hand and we'll look for a new plant that's just coming up!"
The curly leaves were a giveaway ...
and as spring progressed would produce the bells of spring ... columbines.

"Do you want to use the trowel, Jacob?"
"I don't know how, Grandma!"
She placed the handle in his two hands and guided him carefully
so as not to break the root base.
And the ground was still soft and warm
and with a little water poured in to give the plant a transition,
she again guided his little hands and the marker was now in place.
"Your grandma believes when you move one plant to another place,
a little mud is good so it doesn't get scared."
"I'll remember."

"Jacob, that's what it's all about ... remembering.
We might lose something but we remember
and that way things are never really lost!"

"Should we pray or something, Grandma?"
Grandma blinked back a tear of joy at her Jacob's loving spirit.
"Yes, that would be a very good thing to do.
Do you have a prayer for your worm friend."
"I dunno. I don't think I heard anything like that in Sunday School.
Could I just ask Jesus to watch him for me?"
"That would be perfect, Jacob."
And under her breath she whispered one herself ...
"Earthworm to earth, Lord. And bless you for my grandson."
She felt a tug not only in her heart but on her dress.
"Grandma! Cookies, now?"
"Amen, Jacob! Bet you can beat me to the kitchen! Ready, set, go!"

And grandma slammed the screen door because she felt like it!

By Connie Good ©
February 20, 2005
Dedicated to my maternal grandmother
Caroline Ann Sonley Kleffman