Lessons from the Backyard

I watched the tail-less squirrel today who lives outside my window. He was happily leaping on fallen logs between sleet and freezing raindrops. He was out there living out his purpose among fiery cardinals, squawking blue jays, and ordinary sparrows. He wasn't ashamed of his missing tail at all. He just kept scavenging and running and doing things squirrels do that I don't understand.

We human beings have a blessing and a curse. We have the knowledge of good and evil. We are aware when things are wrong. We can choose to be disconnected from our creator. But we can conversely choose to be intimately connected and in relationship with Him.

Sometimes I want to be like my backyard squirrel--blissfully unaware that I'm not whole and just living the way it always is at the same time. Thankfully, I'm not created to ignore my missing piece nor function obliviously. When I attempt to do that I become as shallow as a squirrel. My humanity dies a little bit.

But when I plunge into the messiness of grasping a relationship with the Divine One who perfectly fits what's missing, who grants purpose, who provides meaning, who allows for all my pushing and fighting and desire for control...that's what it means to know God.