Some of the strangest people I have ever seen can be found on Venice Beach in California. If you have ever been there, you know exactly what I mean, unless you are one of the people I am talking about, in which case you probably think you are normal.I don't mean strange in a bad way. I mean strange like playing an electric guitar while wearing a battery backpack and roller skating. Or sitting by the ocean with a cardboard sign advertising yourself as a one man band with instruments attached to every joint, digit, and orifice making a cacophony of impossible music.
These people always make me laugh, but they are definitely out there on the weird register and scare me a little too. I remember once I saw a "Dog Whisperer" show of one of these Venice Beach small business freak show owners. The whole family, including the baby, was covered with piercings and tattoos, long hair, and peace signs. They were the typical Venice Beach hippies that terrify and amuse me. As the show progressed, and the people were revealed as a family with a problem dog, who all loved each other, and the dog... they began to seem less weird. They had the same joys, the same frustrations, and remarkably similar life goals as me, though they had chosen a very different vehicle to arrive in.
Similarly, I was feeling horribly frustrated over some of the uncontrollable stresses in my life, and quite put out because some others were not responding the way I wanted them to. Then through a series of conversations, one by one, those people revealed lives to me that were far more difficult and complicated than even mine, and filled with their own stresses. My complaints were revealed for what they were.... shallow, self-pitying, narrow focused without understanding what was happening to make the others behave as they did. I really am a humbled blockhead this morning. Praise God that His mercies are "new every morning", because I sure need a fresh supply each day.
Lamentations 3:22-24
22 Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
23 They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
24 I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him."
Previously I've emailed you privately when your posts have touched my heart. Glancing through the blog's archives I noticed there aren't a large number of comments, but there should be. You write on subjects that are sincere and emotional, so I know others must have experiences to share and responses to offer. I hope they will because we can learn so much from each other. Today, instead of sending this email to you personally, I’ll put it in the blog as a comment.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Vicky, for faithfully writing your blog and thank you for having a reminder email sent to me with a link to each new post. Some days I am just drawn to that link, as though it were a Ouija Board and I’m the planchette. You would probably say God is directing the Bonnie planchette. However I get there, I do appreciate your wisdom and insight on many subjects. The post “Walking in Another’s Flipflops” narrowed the gap between people who differ.
My son and I were sitting outside on the patio last week soaking up the warm sunshine and enjoying a history lesson when we were interrupted by the shrieking kee-aah of our resident red shouldered hawks. We have a mating pair, a fact that was blatantly verified on a tree limb just yards from our staring eyes. WWII took a back seat to science at that moment. A little research showed us a timeline on egg incubation, brooding, and when we might expect to see juveniles soaring above the treetops. What was most interesting was that during the time of incubating their eggs, red shouldered hawks will form an odd alliance and peaceably co-exist with a typical egg-eating foe, the American Crow, in order to mob and drive off other egg-eating predators, like great horned owls and the larger red tailed hawks. (I promise not to divert this story back to WWII and odd alliances with former foes.)
So there’s a lesson for humans to learn about getting along and here’s a lesson I learned about labels and name calling (as we so often do when describing folks who differ in lifestyle, opinions, and ideology).
The scientific name for the red-shouldered hawk comes from the Latin words buteo, referring to a kind of falcon or hawk, and lineatus, meaning striped, referring to the tail. This hawk has also been called red-bellied hawk, winter hawk, and red-shouldered buzzard. I’m certain our majestic raptors’ feathers would be ruffled at being called buzzards. Buteo hawks are commonly referred to as buzzards in many other parts of the world. The name was mistakenly applied to vultures in North America by the early settlers. (It must have stuck because I certainly grew up thinking buzzards and vultures were synonymous.) If being called a buzzard isn’t bad enough, being lumped into the same group with vultures has got to be humiliating. So we just call our two beautiful birds Atlas Ruber and Humera.
Bonnie