Lenten Sacrifices and Stranded Whales

My husband got an alert via e-mail Monday night.  The call came this afternoon.  As requested, he will leave our house around midnight tonight and drive the 90 miles from Edinburg, Texas to South Padre Island on a cold, dark night.  Soon he will be in a wet suit, walking around and around an ocean cold tank supporting the weight of a 9 feet long, 440 pound melon-headed whale.  It is cold, back breaking, and generally thankless work.  The track record for saving these cetaceans is poor.  But he will be there, walking around and around, keeping the animal moving, surfaced and breathing.  Tom will be a link in a chain of volunteers from the Texas Master Naturalists program who have had special training in saving endangered animals.  He and the others will be there, cold, tired and muscle weary, doing what volunteers do.

            The melon-headed whale was found, beached on the island, and the scientists at the Coastal Studies Lab are trying to save its life.  These small members of the whale family (Peponocephala Electra) are frequently referred to collectively as Blackfish.  Of course they are not fish at all, but mammals, like you and I.  They are known for jumping out of the water in low, arcing leaps that scatter water in massive showers.  They are seldom seen by humans because they prefer deep water.  Social to a fault, they travel in pods of up to 1000 whales, and sometimes—though not this time—beach themselves in droves. 

            Why did this one find himself high and dry on South Padre Island?  We know that he (she???) shows some predation by sharks, and the vet says it has pneumonia.  Yet, the volunteers, trained for the arduous process of movement (careful movement—bumping the whale against the walls of the tank produce stress), respiration and perhaps, on some level, comfort will walk the whale around and around the huge tank and pray for a miracle.    Tom and the other volunteers will work in two hour segments, which is all the cold water we frail humans can stand.  My husband will work from 3:00 a.m. to 5:00 a.m.   Right now he is gathering surf shoes, a bathing suit, shaving kit and a change of clothes.  He will try to sleep for an hour or two before leaving for the coast.            

I have always defined a volunteer as someone who does for free what you could not pay somebody else to do.   Certainly, what Tom and his compatriots are doing for this whale, counts as the very heart of volunteerism.   I am proud of my husband and his devotion to doing right by the natural world.  But I also find myself in mind of his work in this Lenten season. 

Up front, you need to know that while I am a Lutheran and perfectly at ease with my Christian beliefs, my husband is an atheist.  He was raised in the church and chose to leave it.  He encourages me to maintain my faith; I do not try to convert him.  

During this season of Lent many Christians choose to give up or add something to their daily lives.  In either case, the hope is to have a frequent reminder of the sacrifice Christ made for us.  The gift He gave us.  The price He paid for our gift of grace.  I believe that somewhere this evening St. Francis of Assisi is having a conversation with St. Peter.  It might go something like this, “…aye, it’s certainly true, Peter, that the man doesn’t talk the talk; but he certainly walks the walk.”   

God bless the creatures of the deep, and keep the faith.