“Don’t stress over things you can’t change.”
“When God closes a door, he opens a window.”
“There will always be a light at the end of the tunnel.”
Yada…..Yada…..Yada
We’ve all been there. You know….that mood we tend to get in every once in a while when it seems the world is literally caving down around your body and huge chunks of atmosphere keep pounding you on the head. One “CLUNK” after another until you think you can’t possibly hold your head up any longer. You’ve been beaten into submission, your brain has shut down and you no longer have the ability to think a clear thought nor rationalize your own situation. I like to call it the “Doomsday Mood”. Doomsday….meaning the Day that I am Doomed and nothing will EVER be right again in my life. Nothing will ever be the same and there will never be another moment of happiness, financial stability or good health (determined by whatever current issue is knocking the breath out of me).
Yes, I believe you all know that feeling very well. Even if you pretend to be Pollyanna and do not want to admit ever giving in to that “glass half empty” mindset. Some of us succumb to that attitude more easily than others and, unfortunately, allow ourselves to be carried down that fast flowing river of depression. Some of us even allow ourselves to drown in its’ rapids.
I have almost drowned many, many times in that river and still haven’t learned the most valuable lesson…..The body is naturally buoyant. Hold your breath and let the current carry you. If you can refrain from panic, take slow, easy breaths, your body will naturally rise to the surface. It’s a valuable lesson, yes, but so very hard to keep in the front of your brain when you are struggling against the current and trying to get a breath.
This was the state of mind that I found myself in on the day of the lizard’s ordeal. What was actually a typical beautiful, sunny, Friday afternoon in Spring looked more like a day of overcast storms to me. It was the culmination of a week of panic attacks, unfathomable stress and irrational worry over something that I have absolutely no control over. If you know me….then you know that I do not deal well with the lack of control of my situations and I resist change at all cost. I’m like the big oak that will not bend and I have a tendency to snap into when hit with the strongest winds. I had spent the entire week trying not to drown in that proverbial river. I kept reaching out for anything that I could grasp onto to pull my head above the surface in order to get a breath of fresh air….air that would clarify my mind and allow me to get perspective on my situation.
It’s funny, really…the way we blunder around looking for ways to pull ourselves out of our mess. When will we learn that God throws down that “lifeline” in His time….not in ours. I had prayed and prayed for Him to rectify the issues that were causing me such stress. But on that Friday, God saw my true need and He chose to teach me a lesson in the most interesting way; a silly, nonsense way, really…..but I got the point.
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First of all, you should know that I do not like snakes. Okay – that would be the understatement of the century. I not only detest them, but have an irrational phobia of anything “snake” or “snake-like”. I’m the only person I know that can have a full-blown, hyperventilating, hissy fit over a curvy stick. With that said, it would be safe for you to assume that I do not care much for lizards, either. Although I do not fear them, their slim heads, flickering tongue and slithery movements are just too close to that of a snake for my taste. I have no empathy for that which slithers on the ground and eats bugs.
I will allow you full imaginative license to weigh my reaction on that Friday afternoon, as I was pulling out of the parking lot of my job and was distracted (to say the least) by the little green head that popped up and stared at me over the driver-side windshield wiper. I will spare you the horrifying details of my first reaction (SNAKE!!!!) and move on with the little lizard’s story. As I pulled out onto Warm Springs Road, my new little friend ducked his head and moved further from the windshield. Pulling up to the stop light I had a chance to really look at my uninvited hitchhiker. Small, even for a lizard, he was the vibrant green of well-tended grass, with a little tip of red on his tail. I thought that he appeared to be a bit skinny and wondered if he were a baby.
His head was turned to the side giving me the view of only one eye. He appeared to be winking at me! Briefly, I considered pulling over and trying to get the little lizard off of the hood of my Suburban and going on my way. But of course, my irrational brain took over instantly and I had a quick internal by-play of myself dancing the crazy-woman jig on the side of the road as the lizard flew onto my face, around my neck and lickety-split down my shirt….causing me to expose myself to everyone who needed a good laugh on their drive home from work. Needless to say….no, I was not going to stop and battle the “O, so mighty” lizard.
I tapped on the glass of the wind-shield trying to startle him into movement. Perhaps he would jump off while I was at a stop and go along his merry little way. He must have been easily confused because my tapping had the opposite effect. The little lizard ran back up as if being summoned and raising his head….winked at me again over the windshield wiper. I thought to myself that “this lizard has spunk” and then thought again to myself of what a crazy thought to have about a lizard.
My light turned green and I made my way toward the ever busy Manchester Expressway. Realizing that for just a brief few seconds this little green runaway had distracted me from my sulkiness, I decided that it was time to return to my desolate, down-trodden ponderings.
I hit the wiper button.
My eyes grew wide as I watched the calm little lizard jump in panic and run fast toward the side of the hood. He was going to jump off…..and I was MOVING…..down MANCHESTER!
“NO!”, screamed my irrational mind, once again conjuring up images of the tiny little helpless thing flying to his death from the hood of my car. Suddenly I found myself caring that this lizard might not make it. I found myself wondering if he were leaving a family, a mother who might still be feeding it. (I admit I know nothing about lizards). Strangely, I found myself rooting this little creature on and praying for his survival.
His rear foot caught in the crease of the hood and his tiny little leg fell out of sight. He halted, momentarily confused. His little head flicked right, then left…panicking….not knowing what to do. I was so entranced with his plight that I almost hit the lady in front of me as she slowed to stop at one of the many lights on Manchester. I looked over at the truck stopped in the lane next to me and saw two young men looking at the hood of my car and laughing. They had seen my little green friend and probably had deducted the reason behind the screeching of my tires as I jerked to a stop. I calmed myself and noticed that the lizard also appeared to be getting control of his environment. He pulled his leg out of the hood’s crease. I sighed with relief. I had been slightly afraid of him falling down into the engine area and causing himself further harm.
As the traffic began to move again the shaken lizard made his way slowly back toward the windshield. He once again turned sideways, appearing to wink at me as his eyes involuntarily closed against the slight breeze stirred by the slowly moving vehicle. I got the impression that he was watching me…as I was watching him. Once again, my over-active, highly imaginative brain went to work. The little lizard was judging me; accusing me of almost scaring him into suicide. And yet at the same time…pleading with me to spare his life.
Yes, I’m well aware that my mind works in mysterious and funny ways. Let me remind you that so does God.
It was at this point, as I turned off of Manchester and took the entrance ramp to the interstate, that I became determined that this little lizard would make it. He would survive. Once again, I struggled with myself that I should pull over and get him off of my car. But as I took that exit ramp I realized that it was too late. It would be much too dangerous to try and pull over at that particular section of road at that particular time of day. I could not risk my own life to save that of the lizard. That would be truly….too irrational. Anyway, if he got off there, the probability of him getting smashed in the street was at least a good 98%.
I knew this tiny reptile was about to take the ride of his life. He was about to be thrown into conditions that he had never experienced nor expected. I sent up a silent prayer (although surely God must have much bigger issues to worry about) that this little creature’s life be spared. I wanted him to be brought safely through what he was about to endure. I tapped gently, just once and spoke to the lizard through the windshield, “hold on tight little friend”.
Unexplainably, almost as if he understood, the lizard winked once more at me and turned. He moved to the middle of my hood, turned to face his head forward and lowered himself. It was almost as if he were hunkering down. In total amazement and completely oblivious to the problems I had been facing all week I placed my foot on the accelerator and merged into the fast-paced flow of interstate traffic.
Quickly gaining speed, 45…55…65…closing in on 70 miles per hour, I watched as the lizard’s head was lifted and thrown backward. His little chest rose off of the hood by the sheer velocity of the wind storm he was riding. His little feet gripped the hood surface holding his body in place, even as his head was jerked and batted; his tail whipping violently back and forth. Near tears, I watched as the lizard held on for dear life and struggled to pull his head back around to try and hunker down. I had fearful images of his little body being ripped from my hood and thrown into the windshield. But he held fast and steady, never letting go of the only support he had; never giving up or giving in to the thundering wind that threatened to tear him apart.
On any normal work day, I would follow the interstate to it’s end and take the shortest route home. This day, I chose to take first exit into my town and ride the calmer, slower back roads. I was intent on shortening my new friends’ torment as much as I could. We left the interstate behind and drove through a quieter neighborhood. I realized that it was a sheer miracle that I had not caused a major wreck on the interstate, as I had been completely enthralled with the lizards’ fight to survive. I supposed that he knew the worst was behind him. He turned back toward me and took a few tentative steps back toward the windshield. My little winking buddy had survived and was no worse for the wear.
I slowly made my way home. My thoughts returned to the week that I had just had. I was not riding my own storm as eloquently as that lizard had. I had allowed my fears to take over and I never even bothered to try and “hunker down”. I assumed the worst would happen and allowed panic to rip me apart for days. Panic….my own windstorm. It didn’t take a genius to see there was a lesson here to be learned.
As I turned into my neighborhood, I used my cell and was almost shouting at my husband. “Get the kids and come outside!”. I felt that I had to share the plight of my little refugee with someone. After a week of watching me frown, cry, hyperventilate and completely irrationally freak out, my husband and children saw a wildly grinning woman pull up that day. I parked and practically leaped out of my car, pointing at the lizard.
The lizard’s story (my story) babbled it’s way out of my mouth. I’m not sure that they even understood why a lizard on the hood of my car was such a big deal. We took a long stick and gently brushed it against his tail, causing him to race down the side of the car. He stopped on the top of the tire; he seemed frozen and once again unsure of which way to go. I brushed him again with the stick and he ran down the tire, across the pavement and into the shrubbery that lines my front porch.
I sit out there everyday and I see my little friend two or three times a week. Sometimes he even ventures onto the porch and stays for awhile. I can’t say positively that the little green lizard with the reddish-ended tail is “my” lizard. But somehow I’m pretty sure it’s him.
My own problems are nowhere near over. I see mountains to climb in my near and immediate future. I see changes coming that I would rather not have to endure. I do, however, find myself handling things much better. I’m trying to “ride the storm”.
I had prayed for security, reassurance, peace……
and God sent a lizard.