I have become quite fond of
the green frogs who inhabit the old pond that came with the house. And the one
goldfish who, along with another who is now missing, produced an uncountable
number of progeny that I have no idea what to do with. I am grateful for the
young flickers who poke exploratory holes in the ancient apple tree’s immature
fruit and the catbirds who not-so-stealthily pilfer blueberries from bushes I
put in this spring. I don’t mind the chipmunk who tunnels around the newly
planted hydrangea, or even the young rabbits who feel the need to sample almost
everything I’ve planted. I have a sense of belonging in their midst, they who
were here long before we arrived.
But the snapping turtle was
another matter. I first noticed its nostrils poking above the water’s
surface one recent evening, fearful at first that some displaced sea monster had entered the pond. As it raised its head and I recognized the newcomer, I admit to being momentarily horrified even, thankfully, as a curious fascination took hold.
And so…in addition to all the
creatures I have most gladly welcomed, we have this one I would not have
chosen, but have come to accept as being a member of our tiny ecosystem. It is
said that the contemplative life is one in which we are invited to open
ourselves to what is…the reality around us as it is, what we like and don’t
like, what we can and cannot change, and to live our lives from that noticing.
I have been given an intimate, tangible reminder of that invitation and have
found that in my responding, surprisingly, he or she has become not so objectionable
after all. Thanks be to God!
