A Lizard on a Rock

Our dog was snoozing on top of a cozy blanket that was draped across the sofa.  Cari Jill looked at me and said, "Why does Hammy sleep there?"  I explained to her that all living creatures like sleeping in a soft spot.  "For example", I said, "Would you rather sleep on a hard rock or on a soft pillow"?  She thought for a second, then said, "Well, lizards like rocks."

That was true.

Lizards do like rocks.  They are hard and often jagged, either hot or cold depending on the season, sometimes dirty, and I would argue, definitely UNCOMFORTABLE.

What a perceptive little three year old!  The simple phrase--"lizards like rocks"--shows that this small child already recognizes that everyone and everything isn't exactly like her.  Just because she would rather lay her head on a pillow and the family dog prefers to sleep cuddled up next to a soft blanket doesn't mean that lizards do.

I think it's interesting that a three year old could articulate that she likes pillows and lizards like rocks, but a middle school age child thinks that if she likes pillows, then everyone else should, too.  At what point do we stop thinking of ourselves alone and instead shift our focus to the rest of humankind?

 I was thinking about that today as I was watching my boys at football practice.  Another mom was standing nearby, and I felt compelled to go and speak and with her.  She has three kids, the same ages as my three older ones.  She is a single, divorced mother who works full-time.  Her life is crazy and painful, and I'm guessing quite difficult to navigate alone.  I have a husband who loves me and who makes sure that he is home every night at dinnertime.  He engages wholeheartedly with all our kids, and without a doubt, I would be lost without him.  He is my pillow, my comforter, my companion through all life's trials and triumphs.  Still, I often say that motherhood is hard.  But this other mother--wow-- I wonder if sometimes she feels like she is sleeping on a rock?

I remembered our friend the lizard.  I assumed he likes sleeping there, but the reality is probably that he HAS to sleep there, for on the rock, even though it is hard and lumpy and jagged, it provides warmth on a sunny day and camouflage in the face of danger.  He is alone, but he is where he has to be.  I commend this mother.  Her life is not easy.  She would not choose the rock over the pillow, but survival merits its own hardships.  Her rock is her badge of honor.

With God's grace, she can proclaim the words of the Psalmist, "He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire, he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand" (40:2).

Tonight, our conversation was light and superficial, but underneath our shared experience, I sensed a deep sense of longing.  After a long day at work, a trying afternoon trudging through homework, and an endless evening of football practice, I heard her wishing for reprieve, perhaps a pillow in which to lay her weary head.   I pray that one day she will be able to say, "The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.  He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold" (18:2).  The rock isn't a bad place; it's precisely the place where she will experience Jesus' redeeming love.