The Crow Part II

Psalm 121:7-8 (NIV)

7 The LORD will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;

8 the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.

Last night I lay awake for a bit after a dream I had about that crow I'd rescued last week. I believe I had this dream because it came up in a conversation briefly with some friends last night and that got me thinking about it again. I don't remember specific details of the dream but I do remember that some of the people that I was talking about it with were there to witness that same crow struggling again for his freedom, and there I was - showing them how I'd helped him fly away- over, and over.

After the dream, I awoke and prayed a bit. When the actual rescue happened- it felt bigger than some crazy happenstance but I was way too overwhelmed by my looming full weekend to be able to reflect and dig deeper- and in fact, I thought maybe it wouldn't totally apply to my life until later?

Boy was I wrong.

I thought about all of the current situations, friendships, and roles that I have and there is always that one thing- that one "issue" just eating at me in the background of my mind that I have zero control over, and yet it is the very thing that wonders if I am doing any of this "right" that wonders if I followed the "right path at the right time," and wonders that if so, how come I am STILL HERE? Thinking about it sent the wheels spinning and I knew I wouldn't be falling back to sleep anytime soon; so I started being honest about all of it with God -and then something hit to me . . . I'm not the girl saving the bird after all. I'm the crow. Banging aimlessly into the glass- working SO HARD to get "there" (wherever "there" is) and suddenly I envied the crow's final submission in his desperate last attempts. I envy him because it seemed so easy, simple, instinctual for him to look up and me and say "HELP ME" with his eyes, and I did without hesitation, or fear, or anything but pure compassion for the creature. The desperate filthy thing . . .

Suddenly I envied that crow because wow. I have no idea how not to work as hard as I do to make things happen. I have no idea what I am supposed to "do" to submit rightly or well to the Lord in that one nagging, annoying, frustrating area so he can reach down and pick me up and carry me to freedom.

"I" am in the way.

I will always be in the way, and I always have been in the way. Even when I want to submit and be rescued- I am so desperate for that rescue that I TRY to work harder to get it- faster! Now! This time! Right! I fly in one direction and SMACK- crash! So I try the next direction and SMACK- crash! And then I think, maybe if I try a little harder one more time in that other direction I can- SMACK- crash! And then I'll STOP trying all together, and I still am not getting anywhere at all . . .

I grow more frustrated at myself even thinking about it now.

I am sure the crow was frustrated too. To just be doing what he thought was right & what he was designed for - flying towards the sky when SMACK - this invisible something knocked him flat-- over, and over.

I am frustrated because I desperately want to be rescued- delivered to freedom from that nagging thing that frustrates me to no end. Frustrates my friendships, my relationships, my faith, my roles . . . but I don't know how to be like that crow. I don't know how. How. My reasonings, my wit, my logic keeps asking questions where there probably shouldn't be one- and yet- HOW?

There was something so calm, and quiet and beautiful about that moment when I reached down to that bird, and he bowed his head away from me, and I gathered in his wings to lift him and carry him to the exit without him even struggling. How did he do that? How do I?

Who will I be if I gain that kind of freedom from my glass walls? It's so strange to be terrified of something I long for so badly.

Maybe it's also no coincidence that every morning at 5am this week a gang of crows have gathered in the trees outside my window and caw and fight for several minutes before finally flying off.

I hate waking up to the sound of those beasts.

But how I envy them.

Spidey Sense

The warming weather always brings them.

Uninvited they come marching in on all eight hairy legs. Some of them are small and unassuming- nestled in the highest corners out of reach, and as long as they don't move much from their throne I have resolved to leave them be- to munch on the flying gnats and "mozzies" which would otherwise be buzzing in my ear in the middle of my slumber.

Then there are the fast moving ones- the jumpers the "wolves" who never stay put because they are on the hunt and on the move, and on my STUFF! Those are the ones who must die a swift death- and if I am not stealthy enough, they manage to disappear and then re-appear when I am least expecting it. On my STUFF!

Then there are the Daddies. With their sleek, long nimble legs. Slow moving and hunters of other insects. This arthropod may or may not be an arachnid- but it sure looks spider-like to me! They are an easy kill- so I dispose of them quickly, and their thin bodies leave little mess to clean-up.

Finally there are the mothers of them all. The HUGE. The brown. The "so-hairy-I-could-braid-it-fingernail-sized-body-half-dollar-sized-with-legs"
prehistoric spiders that invade my room and simply hang out in plain sight to taunt me because they can. They are the ones that are so big, it makes me think for a split second that I live in the jungle, and they are so big, that I can literally SEE their mouth opening and closing without getting within arm's length!

That is the kind of spider I came home to on Saturday night. At midnight. Waiting. On my closet door. He was the last thing I wanted to deal with after such a long day. And I knew I couldn't leave him there because my closet is close to my bed. He was guarding the shoes I may have had a chance to squish him with- cheeky buggar- and the books, and the other large heavy objects that could have aided in his demise, but no, he wouldn't have that would he?

I ran to the kitchen and selected the heaviest glass I could find. I'd trap him for the night and deal with him in the morning. No mess to clean up- no fight to fight- and when I returned. HE WAS GONE! What the? Did the sucker know what I was up to?

So I did the only thing left I could do. I checked my bed, convinced myself he was hiding away (far away from me) and went to sleep. Oh, and then I asked God to find him for me.

The next morning I was brushing my teeth and had almost forgotten all about my face-off with Mr. Mother-Brown. Almost.

Until I opened the shower door to grab my face cleanser. And there he was. Keeping good watch over it for me. This felt familiar. Last year at this time- I faced off with Mr. Brown Mother's sister- sitting above the shower door and realized maybe this kind prefers the wet? Okay wait, seriously, do I live in a jungle??? I reached up and grabbed the shower head- turned on the hot water, and flushed him down the drain. He didn't jump. He didn't even fight. Maybe he was even rooting for me? Nah. I plugged the drain and made a mental note to flush the shower with water later that day (just to be sure).

Then I turned and reached for the door and a small gray spider and I made eye contact. Heh. You think YOU'RE scary after that sucka? Take THAT! I finished him off with a Kleenex.

And enjoyed it.

Arachnids: 0