The Lucky Few

Some of us just get pooped on.

Source: http://10000birds.com/enlightenment-through-bird-poop.htm

It's as though it was always meant to happen.

For as long as I can remember, I've been that person who trips over her shadow, walks into trees and doors and walls, gets pooped on by birds, and tells jokes backwards.

I was at a wedding last weekend. The best man, the brother of the groom, gave a great toast in which he shared some humorous anecdotes about his experience growing up. He felt that throughout his life, his "purpose" was to make his brother look good- by means of his shortcomings, or even his failures. He wasn't disrespecting himself, but rather enjoying the difference between him and his brother.

In some ways, I could make the same argument, that perhaps the reason I've been so lucky as to be clumsy and be the brunt of jokes and be in the wrong place at the wrong time (or the right place/right time from the birds' perspectives...), is so that others can both find amusement, and so they can look good. Hehe!! Like the groomsman, I don't say this in self-disrespect, but I kind of enjoy the idea that someone else breathes a happy sigh of relief if I take the bird poop.

Also, after washing the crow poop out of my hair yesterday (yes, I got pooped on yesterday- almost twice within an hour), I wondered if it isn't all preparation for my life ahead in the jungle. For the many times I will no doubt trip over roots, walk into trees and doors and walls, get pooped on by birds or attacked by other vicious creatures like spiders, and not understand jokes or be able to tell them... MAYBE, just maybe, my life experience has prepared me to not fall apart in those moments, but to be able to find humor in it and perhaps laugh at myself. :)

You see, there has never been a season in my life in which I thought the world was right, or that life was 'good'. For me, it's 'always' been 'wrong'.

But that doesn't mean I am obligated to feel and live as though it is a complete disaster. It gives me the opportunity to choose my response. To choose to be devastated, to choose to bury my head in the sand, or to choose to lift my eyes. I've learned that real living in the midst of this life comes from lifting my eyes to Christ, the author of life.

This doesn't by any means imply that I have it down, and that I always respond well. Those who know me are well aware that it is a continual struggle for me to choose the best response when I walk into a tree.

I won't lie- I'm encouraged when I realize I'm not the only lucky one who has such great encounters with nature. Naya walked into a wall as she headed to her room this evening. As we comforted her, I felt some inner joy and pride, knowing that she carries my genes. :) ... poor child. :)