The Bird
She was terrorizing the family. She ran from sibling to sibling; leaping, tackling, mouthing, pinning, and wrestling with them. The ones her size didn't mind that much, however there were the smaller ones.
The sounds of hissing filled the air as she tackled he brother. He being a declawed cat rolled to his back, hissing, growling, and racking her belly with his hind claws. The tones became more serious as she wrapped her mouth around him. His growling grew and as he managed to find his feet, stood on his hind paws and pummeled her jaws with the punches of a boxer. She was momentarily startled. He escaped to the protective arms of his mother.
"Jim . . . YOUR dog needs a walk. She's torturing the cats again."
"Come on 'Dita, let's go outside."
Running as hard as she could the dog liberated the joy of life within her. She chased leaves . . . and shadows . . . and leaves . . . and clouds . . . and then she saw the birds. Running as hard as she could, she ran toward the birds. One was a bit too slow and she almost had it. She ran circles around them, chasing them from tree to tree. She would leap into the air, biting at them, chasing them again and again--relentless.
Finally with one powerful snap of her jaws, she snatched her prize--a large black bird. As it fluttered in her mouth she tightened her hold. At one point she actually let it go and then grabbed it again. Relentlessly she released and captured her prize--always the victor until she finally deposited her prized at her father's feet.
"Oh 'Dita, it's dead. Go in the house girl. No, leave the bird."
She snuck the bird into the house anyway and dropped it at her mom's feet. "No, 'Dita, no. You killed it." The pup tried to snatch it back as her father took it away. She followed him, leaping and snatching at the bird. Dad just kept it out of her reach. Eventually, he buried the bird. She had worked so hard to catch and play with the bird and now . . . it wouldn't play back anymore--it was dead.
Often in life we find a subject . . . a thought . . . a pet peeve that we pursue over and over again. It might be something great or small. We tell whoever will listen our opinions. We post our perspectives on social media. We speak out over and over and over. Too often our perspectives become more and more adamant and less loving; demanding rather than persuasive; belittling rather than tolerant; perhaps--bullying.
Children suffer at the words of other children. When I was growing up the words were "four eyes . . . fatso . . . stinky . . . and other such things." These have evolved into less tolerant words over the years such as "fag . . . 'ho . . ." and words that I can't even write here. Opinions become racial slurs. "Stop immigration--lock the borders" is one that always confuses me--if not for immigration my family would have never existed. Some of my ancestors were already on this soil as others arrived from Europe. I don't understand the adamancy; the emotion fueling the argument.
Issues have become dividing points. You fall into this group, or that group. Gun control; immigration; right to life; welfare; medicare; health care; issues that are complex have become whipping points. Social postings have become threats; belittling; relentless pursuits of opinions. Before we realize what is happening--the bird we pursued is dead. Our compassion; our love; our joy of life has been replaced with intolerance, dominance, and unfortunately violence.
God, forgive us for not loving our neighbors as you love each of us. Forgive us for pursing our perspective to the detriment of others. Forgive us, God, for losing our way and focus of your love and way because we lose ourselves in the argument of the day. Teach, loving God, to focus on you, your inclusive, tolerant love, and treating others as brothers and sister--people of worth because they too are made in your image. So be it. Amen.
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