Dog waste station

For a long period of time, I wasted my potential. First, it was because I was afraid of everything. I don’t know when it started, but I have a brain that, when it hears something, can remember it to the ends of the earth. Only select things, both good and bad, and usually unnecessary. Things that would directly and indirectly change me, my actions, my thoughts. For example, in Italian class in high school I overheard these two girls speaking about their friend, aghast that she was wearing the same shirt within a two week period. I can remember where they were sitting , where I was sitting, and the tone of voice of the girl voicing her vicious concern of her friend. “Oh my gosh, she, like, wore that shirt last Tuesday.” All I could remember was thinking, “And these are her friends? Why does this matter to them?” Something snapped in me and I ended up wearing whatever, however I felt like. It’s been almost the only thing that I couldn’t care less about what other people think of me, and am genuinely amused when people take offense.

On the same line, I remember, in high school, apparently formative years, this one really nosy, opinionated, judgy girl who made so much fun of the way this other girl ate that from then on, I hated eating in front of other people. It wasn’t me that was made fun of, but it still made me change my ways. I didn’t want to annoy anyone or to be made fun of something so stupid. I play the martyr card, remember, to be the least annoying, least noticed person. The same thing happened with my laugh. I hate laughing around people because of something someone mentioned, and my brain took it and ran with it, unhinged

Then it was because I discovered alcohol and while it made me giggle more freely, speak more freely, it didn’t really take away my fears. Only made them worse in the end, and more severe.

Now, sober for a year and three months later, a lot of those fears have vanished. Some still stick around, but I’m aware of them, I can reason with myself and I take less time to get through it. Or I can make fun of myself in the situation (*see any interaction I have with the male species) which will remind me quite often that the situation could have gone much less awkward.

All of this being said, I want to be intentional. In my thoughts, in who I am, in my actions, in YHWH. I have the potential to be more intentional, and I’m walking in that direction, slowly, it seems, but I have 30+/- years of my memory to re-educate. That’s not necessarily easy for anyone to achieve, let alone someone recovering through alcoholism. But it’s possible, it’s happening, and I’m grateful.

reality versus fiction

This post won’t make sense. I’m certain of it. But here goes.

I’ve just watched a video where a woman leaves her house every morning to greet a deer who returns, every morning, to join her in her kitchen to be fed from a bottle. The deer is hesitant, but eager, excited, but guarded. Some people think it’s cute…Others freak out because the deer is wild, and should stay wild, and the woman is ruining everything.

But here’s the thing. Yes, most animals are wild. But as children of God, we were called to be good stewards of the earth, to love as we are loved, to take care, as we are taken care of. Originally, we supposedly got along with animals, shepherded them without fear, without care. And I can’t help but imagine a life outside of of those expectations. A life where we live in harmony with “wild” animals. My heart aches for the lion and the lamb, pure harmony and bliss.  As a human, I’m delighted by the fact that this deer enjoys coming to this woman’s house, that this woman is delighted by the fact that this deer is eager to take a bottle from her kitchen. Part of me wants us humans to live in harmony with the animals around us, feeding them, becoming their friends. I get and understand the “let them be” idea, but maybe we’re all just expecting a reality that isn’t true to our natures. maybe, just maybe, we’re supposed to befriend the deer (maybe feeding it things it usually eats…) and maybe we’re supposed to nurse animals back to heath so that years from now we can go to the wild and be embraced by lions who remember our kindness, our brotherliness, our sincerity.

Or maybe I just live in a world where the lion embraces the lamb, where the wild meets the civilized. Either way, I’m torn. All I know is that if a deer decided to end up at my door every morning wanting to spend the morning with me, I wouldn’t deny him his animistic rights. If I raised a lion to adulthood, released him, then wanted to see how he was doing years from then, I wouldn’t deny an embrace that shook the world. I crave a world wholly filled with sincerity and grace, and I’ll wait an eternity for it.