Furry Lizards

This week, I went to the beach for the first time in almost three years. Upon my return back home and unpacking, I settled into my favorite chair and pondered. From this vantage point, I remembered sitting in the same spot following the same trip. That time, I stayed awake into the early morning hours worrying that I might have a concussion following the car accident that happened on the way home.

During those long hours, I spotted movement under the couch. It looked like a lizard with mouse fur. Or perhaps it was a mouse with lizard stripes. I remembered watching this creature thinking that surely I had sustained grave injuries. Finally, I realized it was a lizard that had traveled back in my luggage and was scampering loose in the house picking up traces of dirt and untold debris.

Sometimes people are lizards passing themselves as mice--running through life in disguise from themselves and others. Using their sharp tongues to hurt and inflict pain. Crawling in the dirt as their reptilian minds plot against the innocent. Lying in wait and lying to others as they create fiction from fact. Using life’s tragedies and circumstances to profit and accomplish hidden motives.

And sometimes things are as they appear. There are people with smiles that reach their eyes and compassion shining on their skin. I know of people extending a hand of service because they care. Daily stories of volunteers showing up at a stranger’s door to help flood recovery. Money given with a joyful heart. Regardless of circumstance, clothes and appearance, people lifting joyful hands to heavens.

Sitting in my chair, I think about the changes over the past few years. Surgery, recovery, friends lost, friends found, and a different job. Perhaps the biggest difference; I more easily recognize lizards-- regardless of disguise.