Not Lost, But Gone Before by Margaret Gatty
““Won’t any of you share the secret, for the sake of those you left behind?””
"I wonder what happens to the frog when he climbs up out of this world and disappears so completely that we can't even see his shadow? And then, plop! There he is, back with us again when we least expect him. Does anybody know where he goes? Please, somebody tell me!"
This is what a dragonfly grub was saying, as he darted around under the water with his friends, in and out among the water plants at the bottom of a pond, searching for food.
The pond was in the middle of the woods, with tall trees around it that reflected on the surface of the water as if it was a mirror. Reeds and forget-me-nots on the banks were reflected so perfectly that there seemed to be two of them.
"Who cares what happens to the frog?" answered one of the little creatures who heard the grub's question, "what difference does it make to us?"
"Take care of looking for your own food," said another, "and don't worry about anyone else."
"But I'm curious," said the grub, "I can see all of you when you pass by me among the plants down here under the water. Even when I don't see you anymore, I know you've gone a little further on. But I followed a frog just now as he went upwards, and then he suddenly went to the side of the water and started disappearing, and then he was gone! Do you think he left this world? What can there be beyond?"
"You lazy chatterbox," cried another little creature, zipping by, "focus on the world you're in, not some world beyond, if there even is such a thing." And the creature caught an insect that was flitting right in front of the grub.
The grub forgot his curiosity a little after hearing these kinds of remarks, and continued chasing and eating insects for a while.
But, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't help thinking about how the frog had disappeared. Soon he started pestering his neighbors about it again. "What happens to the frog when he leaves this world?" is what he always asked.
The minnows gave him a funny look and passed by him without speaking. They didn't know any more about it than he did, but they didn't want to admit it. The eels wriggled away in the mud. They didn't want to be bothered.
The grub began to be impatient, but he got some other grubs wondering about the frog, too. He and his grub friends scrambled around together asking everyone they ran into the same unreasonable question.
Suddenly there was a loud splash in the water, and a large yellowish green frog swam down to the bottom of the pond where the grubs were.
"There's the frog; now you can ask him yourself," suggested a minnow who was darting higher up in the pond, and he glanced mischievously at the grub. That sounded like a good idea, though it wasn't an easy thing to do. The frog was a large, dignified animal, and the smaller pond creatures were awed and intimidated by him. It took a good bit of confidence to approach someone so important and ask where he'd been to and where he had come from. What if he thought it was rude and nosy to ask such a personal question?
But the grub couldn't pass up this opportunity to satisfy his curiosity. So he went around the roots of a water lily to gather his courage, and then he approached the frog as humbly as he could and asked,
"Will you let a miserable little creature say something?"
The frog looked at him with surprise in his gold-rimmed eyes, and answered,
"Miserable creatures should be quiet. I never talk unless I'm happy."
"Well, I'll be happy if I'm allowed to say something."
"Talk all you like," said the frog. "Why should it bother me!"
"Respectable Mr. Frog," replied the grub, "what I have to say is a question for you."
"Go ahead and ask," said the frog, although his tone wasn't very encouraging. Still, the grub had permission to ask, so he did.
"What's out there in the world beyond?" he asked, in a voice barely above a whisper because he was so awed.
"What world do you mean?" asked the frog, looking at him with his goggly eyes.
"I mean this world, of course. Our world," said the grub.
"You mean this pond?" Said the frog, with a contemptuous sneer.
"I mean this place we live in, whatever you might choose to call it," said the grub a little rudely. "I call it the world."
"Do you, clever little fellow?" said the frog. "Then what is the place you don't live in, the place you call 'beyond' the world, huh?"
"That's what I was hoping you would tell me!" said the grub, in an offended tone.
"I see, little fellow," cried the frog, rolling his eyes with an amused twinkle. "Alright then, I will tell you. It is dry land."
There was silence for a few seconds. Then the grub asked, in a more subdued voice, "Can you swim around there?"
"I should think not!" laughed the frog. "Dry land isn't the same as water, little fellow. It's something totally different."
"But I want you to tell me what it is!" persisted the grub.
"Of all the curious creatures I've ever met, you're the most pesky," said the Frog. "Let me see . . . dry land is something like the sludge at the bottom of this pond, only it isn't wet because there's no water."
"No water?" interrupted the grub, "then what is there?"
"That's the trouble," explained the Frog. "There is something there, of course--they call it air, but I have no idea how to describe it. The best I can explain is that it's the closest thing there is to nothing. Does that make sense?"
"Not really," replied the grub, hesitating.
"That's exactly what I was afraid of. Listen, take my advice and stop asking silly questions. No good can possibly come of it," urged the Frog.
"Oh, Mr. Honored Frog," cried the grub, "I quite disagree! I think a lot of good might come of it, if only my restless curiosity might be satisfied by getting the information I seek. That would make me content, which would be something. Right now, I'm miserable and restless because I don't know."
"You're a very silly little creature," said the Frog, "who won't be satisfied to take the advice of those with more experience. I'm telling you, this isn't worth troubling yourself about. But I do admire your spirit, which is astonishing, since you're such an insignificant little thing. I'll tell you what--if you don't mind sitting on my back, I'll carry you up to dry land myself. Then you can judge for yourself what's there and how you like it. I personally think it's a silly experiment, but it's your call. I make this offer just to please you."
"I accept your offer!" exclaimed the grub with enthusiasm. "My gratitude knows no bounds!"
"Alright, then, drop yourself onto my back, and hang on as best you can. Remember, if you slide off, you won't be in the right place when I leave the water."
The grub obeyed, and the Frog swam gently upwards and reached the reeds by the edge of the pond.
"Hold tight!" he cried all of a sudden, and then he raised his head out of the pond, and clambered up the bank and onto the dry grass.
"Now then, here we are!" cried the frog. "So, what do you think of dry land?"
But there was no answer.
"What? Are you gone?" continued the Frog. "That's what I was afraid of. He's slipped off my back into the water, silly little fellow. How unlucky! But it can't be helped. Well, maybe he'll be able to make his way to the edge of the water, and then I can help him out. I'll wait around here and see."
And the frog leaped along the grass by the edge of the pond, glancing every now and then among the reeds to see if he could spot the dark little figure of the dragonfly grub.
And what was happening with the grub all this time? He had not slipped from the frog's back out of carelessness. He had hung on with all the strength of hope, until the moment came when his little face began to rise up out of the water.
That sent him reeling off the frog's back into the pond, panting and struggling for his life. A shock seemed to have come over his body, followed by a feeling of deadly faintness. It took a few seconds before he could recover himself.
"How horrible!" he cried, after he had gotten some of his strength back. "Beyond this world, there's nothing but death! The frog deceived me. Even he himself couldn't survive there."
And with that, the grub went back to his old life. His burning curiosity was somewhat stifled, although his spirit was not discouraged.
He satisfied himself with talking to his friends about what he had been through, and where he had gone. They were all enthralled by his tale. It was new and exciting, full of mystery and danger! It almost had a fatal result, yet the mystery of what became of the frog was still unanswered. The whole affair was adventurous and thrilling, and the grub soon had quite a few grub followers who questioned, chattered and speculated at his heels.
By this time, it was almost evening, and time to stop chasing food. As the inquisitive grub was returning from his ramble among the water plants, he suddenly saw his friend, the greenish yellow frog, sitting thoughtfully on a stone at the bottom of the pond.
"Hey--you there!" cried the startled grub. "You never left this world at all, you deceiver! You lied to me. That's what I get for trusting strangers. I was a fool!"
"I'm confused by your offensive remarks," replied the frog seriously. "Yet I forgive you. You're too clumsy and ignorant to reasonably expect civility from. Did you ever wonder what I must have felt when I landed on the grass this morning and discovered that you were no longer on my back? Why didn't you hang on, like I told you? I guess that's how it is with you foolish little critters who think you can understand and investigate everything. You're overwhelmed and thrown over by the first real difficulty you encounter."
"Your accusations are unfair!" cried the grub indignantly.
They were just on the point of quarreling when the frog, with unusual generosity, asked the grub to tell his part of the experience and clear himself of the accusation of clumsiness, if that was possible.
So the grub told him. The frog stared at him in silence with his great goggly eyes while the grub went over the details of his terrible adventure.
"And now," the grub concluded, "it's clear to me that there's nothing beyond this world except death. All your stories about how you've been there must be lies. Unless maybe you have some secret place you go to when you leave this world that you won't tell me. I suppose you have a right to keep your secrets, but I don't care to be made a fool of by any more tall tales, so I'll bid you good night."
"No, don't leave until you've listened to my side as patiently as I've listened to yours," said the frog.
"I guess that's only fair," said the grub, and he stopped to listen.
The frog told him how he had waited by the edge of the pond, vainly hoping to catch sight of the grub. He had hopped around in the grass, and peeked around the reeds. "Finally," he continued, "although I didn't actually see you, I saw something that will be even more interesting to you than it would be to any other creature in the world." And he paused right there.
"And what was it?" asked the inquisitive grub. His curiosity was revived, and he was no longer angry.
"On the polished green stalk of one of those reeds," continued the frog, "I saw one of your own race slowly and gradually climb up until he was out of the water, clinging to the support he had chosen, exposed to the full glare of the sun. I was curious about the sight, knowing how all of you are so fond of the shady bottom of the pond, so I continued to watch. After awhile I saw--though I can't explain how such a thing could happen--that your friend's body seemed to rip, and slowly, little by little, and with a great deal of struggle, something came out of it! It was one of those radiant creatures who fly through the air that I told you about, dazzling those who catch sight of them as they pass. It was a glorious dragonfly!
Then, as if he had barely awakened from some confusing dream, he lifted his wings out of the shell of a body he was abandoning. His wings were shriveled and damp, but then they stretched and expanded in the sunshine, until they glistened as if they were on fire.”
"How long this strange process continued, I couldn't say. I was transfixed in astonishment and admiration. Finally, the beautiful creature poised himself in the air for a second or two before he took flight. I saw four gauzy wings flash in the sunshine. I heard the noise they made as they struck the air. I saw his body give out rays of glittering green and blue as he darted along, and then away over the pond in circles that seemed to never end. And then I plunged down into the pond to look for you, rejoicing in the news I was going to bring you."
The frog stopped here, and there was a long pause.
Finally the grub said, "That's a lovely story," with less enthusiasm than the frog expected.
"Yes, it is a lovely story," repeated the frog, "but I want to know what you think of it."
"I'd prefer to hear what you think about it," said the grub, politely.
"Good, you seem to have grown more accommodating, my little friend," said the frog. "Well, what I believe is that what I saw explains your strange curiosity, and your tiresome craving to know about the world beyond the pond."
"Possibly, if your account can be relied on," said the grub doubtfully.
"Listen, little fellow," said the frog, "your distrust can't do me any harm, but it might deprive you of something that could comfort you."
"Then, you really think that the glorious creature you described was really once a--"
"Quiet," said the frog, "I'm not going to describe anything. Good evening! Night is coming to your pond, and I'm returning to my grassy home on dry land. Go rest, little fellow, and wake up in hope."
The frog swam close to the bank and clambered up its banks. The grub returned to the other grubs, who rested from their activity and pursuit of food during the darkness of night.
"Do you promise?" asked an entreating voice.
"I promise," was the sincere answer.
"Faithfully?" asked the first speaker.
"Faithfully and solemnly," promised the second speaker.
But its voice was tired and weak, because the dragonfly grub was sick and anxious. His legs weren't so nimble, and he felt strangely heavy and oppressed.
The tiny creatures he used to chase and eat flitted by him unnoticed. The water plants he used to scramble over so easily felt uncomfortable to his feet now. In fact, the very water he had been born in, and where he used to propel himself so skillfully, felt almost suffocating with its weight.
He felt compelled to go upwards. Up! Up! It was a strong craving that overshadowed every other feeling he had. He felt drawn to submit to it, as if it was some inevitable law he must obey. And then he remembered the frog's story of what he had seen, and he had a trembling suspicion that his time had come, and he would finally find out what was beyond the pond.
His friends and relatives were all gathered around him. Some were his own age, some were a season younger. All of them were followers of his, who had been inspired by his enthusiastic hopes. They wished they could help him now, in his hour of weakness. But there was no help for him now, only hope. And he had more of that than they did.
Then came the heartfelt request, and his solemn promise that if his hopes turned out to be true, he would return and tell them so.
"But what if you forget?" cried one of the younger ones, who was fearful and worried.
"How could I forget my old home?" cried the sick grub. "How could I forget my friends, the life we enjoyed here, the fun of chasing our food, our clever strategies, the triumph of catching our prey? Can I ever forget the feelings of hope and fear that we've all shared? I've promised to relieve your fears if I can. Forget? That would be impossible!"
"But what if you can't come back to us?" suggested another young grub.
"That's even more unlikely," murmured the listless, exhausted grub. "When I'm in my exalted state, what will possibly be impossible for me to do? Farewell, my friends! Good-bye! I can't stay here any longer. Before long, you'll see me in a new, glorious form. Until then, farewell!"
His voice was so tired, and his movements were so weak. He rose upwards through the water until he got to the reeds at the edge. Two of his closest brothers and a few of his friends who were more adventurous than the others, went with him as he rose up, hoping to see whatever might happen above. But, of course, they couldn't.
As soon as he emerged from the pond into the air, clinging to the stem of a reed, he disappeared from their sight.
Their eyes were only fit for the water. They were unable to look up and through the water to see beyond the pond. So the little group of grubs went back to the bottom of the pond, heartsick and sad.
It had been the middle of a bright, sunny day when the grub had left his friends. They waited through the long hours of that day for his return. First they waited in joyful hope. Then they waited in great anxiety. As the shady night deepened, they continued to wait in gloomy fear, and finally they despaired. "He has forgotten all about us," cried some of them. Others said, "He has been overtaken by a death he can't awaken from." And a few held onto hope. "He'll return to us yet."
Messenger after messenger went up towards the reeds and to different places in the pond, hoping to find some trace of their lost friend, but with no luck. Each one who went out looking came back disappointed from the long, fruitless search. Even the most optimistic started to lose heart.
Finally night came, and that brought a temporary relief from their sadness. As soon as the sun was up the next morning, it filled all of nature with joy and hope, but the little grubs woke up and remembered their bitter disappointment. They were indignant at what seemed to be a cruel joke played on them.
"We were doing just fine before we ever thought about such things," they said, "but it's cruel for someone to hold out hopes like this, and then to be deceived after all. It isn't fair, and why should we accept it patiently?"
And they did not bear it patiently. They went all over, viciously chasing their prey with a fierceness that nothing could hold back. They carried their terrible vengeance in all directions of the pond.
That's how they spent the second day. Before the sun went down, they all agreed to stop mourning for the loss of their beloved friend and the uncertainty of their own destiny. So they spent the night in gloomy, bitter silence.
But on the third morning, one of the grub's favorite brothers came sailing into the midst of a group of grubs who were just waking up, ready to start the routine of their day.
His eyes were unusually brilliant. They shone more than they ever had before, startling everyone who looked at them. Even the most oblivious, unobservant grubs couldn't help stopping and attending to him when he started speaking.
"My friends," he said, "as you know, I was one of our lost grub's favorite brothers. I trusted him as much as I trust myself. I would have pledged myself a thousand times over to prove the truth of what he said. You can imagine, then, how much I have suffered from the disappointment of not seeing his promise fulfilled. It's tragic that he still hasn't come back to us!"
The grub brother paused, and a little group off to the side murmured to each other, "How could he come back? The story about the other world isn't true."
"I admit, he has not returned to us," continued the grub brother, "But, my friends, I feel that I am going to him, wherever he is--either to that new life he talked about, or to death, from which there is no return. Beloved ones, I am leaving the same way he did--upwards, upwards, upwards! I have an irrestible yearning to go upwards. Before I go, I will repeat the same promise he once made to you. I promise for myself, and for him. If the great hope is true, we'll come back and tell you. If I don't return . . . no, never mind. You can depend on me. Keeping my word means more to me than my very life. Farewell!"
The grub rose upwards through the water. The third grub brother and a couple of the younger grubs followed, but when he reached the edge of the pond, he latched onto a forget-me-not, and, clinging to its firm stem, clambered up out of the water and into the open air.
The grubs who had followed him watched as he left the water, but after that, there was nothing for them to see. The emptiness of his leaving was all they had left, and they sank back down to the bottom of the pond where they lived, sad and anxious.
The rest of the day passed just like before: not a trace of their departed friend was found. They tried to take comfort in remembering what he had told them, but it didn't help. The hope he had reawakened in them died out with the setting sun. Many grubs complained about his betrayal and lack of love for them. "He let us down," some of them said. "In his exciting new life, he forgot all about us, just like his brother." And the little group who had been murmuring off to the side said to each other, "The story about the other world isn't true." Only a very few grubs said, "We won't despair."
The only thing for certain was that he had not returned. The disappointed grubs took out their frustration and disappointment the same way they had before: in fierce, angry destruction everywhere they went.
Another day went by. In the early dawn of the fourth morning, the third and last brother crept slowly to where a little group of his favorite friends were sleeping and woke them up.
"Look at my eyes," he said. "Do you notice a sudden change has come over them? They feel swollen to me, almost bursting, and everything looks cloudy and blurry. I'm sure it's the same with me as it was with our dear friends who left us. I feel heavy and oppressed, like they did. It's as if some invisible power was driving me upwards, the same way they were driven. Listen to me: when I leave, you can count on me keeping my promise. No matter what that other world is like, even if it's gorgeous beyond anything we can imagine, and more blissful than we could even hope, my heart towards you won't change. I won't forget you. I can't promise you any more than that. If it's at all possible, I will return. But remember, that other world may very well exist, but we in this world may be misjudging what it's like. Farewell, I know it's not possible for you to stop fearing, but never stop hoping. Farewell, my friends!"
And he, too, went upwards, through the cool water to the plants on the edge of the pond. He rose from the leaf of a marsh marigold from his familiar home in the pond to the airy world above, where a water-grub's eye could never go.
His friends lingered for awhile near the spot where he disappeared, but there was no sign or sound of their friend. There was only a dreary sense of sadness to remind them that he had once been among them.
Then there were the same hours of expecting him to come back, their renewed disappointment, bitter doubts, and their hope struggling with despair.
After this, other grubs went up in their turn, one after another. The time came when the dazzling eyes of a different creature shone through the grub's mask, and it was his turn to pass upwards and fulfill his destiny.
But the ones left behind had the same experience. Some doubted and feared, some didn't believe and ridiculed, and a few believed and looked forward to the future.
If only they could have known, poor things! If their eyes, which are only suitable for the limited confines of their watery pond, could have had the ability to see into the purer element beyond, into the air above the pond, they would have been spared a life-time of anxiety! Then they would have had rest and comfort.
But if they had been able to see it, they would have had to believe, there would have been no other alternative. There would have been no need for hope.
Meanwhile, what about the dragonfly? Had he really forgotten them, as they thought? When he burst out of the prison of his grub body by the side of the water and rose on glittering wings into the air, did he really have no memory of the dear ones he had left behind? Didn't he care about their sadness and fears? Did he forget the promise he had made to them?
No! Far from it; he thought about them even in the joy of his wildest flights. He continued to return to the pond which had once been the only world he knew.
But even the pond had its own law he had to obey. He had to submit to it. He could never again return to the world of water.
Even the least touch on the surface of the water, as he skimmed over it hoping to enter the pond, sent a deathly shock over him, just like the shock the grub had received when he emerged into the air. His dragonfly wings brought him back instantly from the unnatural contact with the water.
"How tragic! In ignorance and presumption as a miserable grub, I made a promise that I cannot keep," he cried bitterly, over and over again.
So, divided from his dear ones, yet so close, they were separated and yet love united them.
He hovered along the barrier that lay between them, perhaps hoping that something might allow him to catch a glimpse of his dear ones. And his faithfulness was rewarded. No matter how far away he roamed, he continued to return to the same spot, so he was there to welcome his own brother when he emerged only a few days after him.
And after that, on bright sunny afternoons, the breezy air by the pond would be filled with the sound of dragonfly wings as they darted backwards and forwards and side to side over the pond, delighted in their new life.
Perhaps on those occasions, some freshly emerged friend from below would add even more joy to the life they were living now. It was such a sweet assurance to each newcomer to come out into the world beyond and solve the riddle of his fate, and find that his new world was not strange and friendless, but a home with dear ones he had known in the pond who were already here to welcome him!
It was also sweet, yet strange, to know that the whole time they had been fearful and anxious in their ignorant pond below, the glittering rays of light they had seen reflected on the surface of the pond had been gleams from the wings of their departed friends, reflected here and there as the sun shone on them. If only they had known!
How lovely it is for us to linger by the pond ourselves, to observe and reflect. The pond is filled with mysterious kinds of life, and we barely know anything of their secrets. The beech tree spreads its graceful arms, and the sunlight shines through and is reflected beautifully underneath. The innocent birds sing their joyful music. The blue forget-me-not tells its old tale of romance, and the long grass bends and makes long shadows. There, the dragonflies still hover on the surface of the pond, longing to reassure their dear friends who are still hoping and fearing in the water below.
“Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.””
Not Lost, But Gone Before is one of many stories written by Margaret Gatty (1809-1873) from her "Parables From Nature" collection which is in the public domain.
Gatty is a treasured author who wrote children's literature and about marine biology from a believer's perspective.