This is a story about a lizard.
Yesterday afternoon I dropped my 7th Grader off at her piano lesson at the local music academy. Less than five minutes later, as I was pulling out onto the busy parkway, my phone rang and I answered to hear her saying in an urgent, hushed tone:
Her: Momma. There’s an alive lizard here. It’s bright green and super creepy.
Me: Where is the lizard?
Her: In the hallway.
Me: Where are you?
Her: In the practice room.
Me: OK. There’s a door between you. Help me understand why this is an emergency.
Her: Because I need to go to the bathroom, but there is an ALIVE LIZARD in the hallway!!
I’ll spare you the rest of our transcript, but suffice it to say that she didn’t like my chill response to her predicament. And she didn’t dare attempt to go to the bathroom for fear that the lizard would attack.
Soon enough her fearless piano teacher, John, arrived and decided they should catch and release the lizard back into the wild. And amidst the commotion, the secretary of the academy came out and shared that she should be relieved it was only a lizard because “one time a snake got into the building.”
To be sure, if a snake had been in that building yesterday, then February 23, 2022, would have been the day the music died—quite literally—for my middle child. So we’re all thankful for the peaceful resolution to the lizard situation.
I have a reason for sharing this silly story. Lizards and snakes are one thing. But I think many of us are walking around with some very real, less tangible fears in our heads and hearts these days. And I think it’s important to be transparent about the kind of anxieties we’re carrying because they tend to multiply when we try to ignore them or carry them alone. Here are some of mine…
Is this pandemic ever going to end?
What is happening in Ukraine and what does it mean?
Is this crazy housing market going to crash?
Are my kids doing OK?
Has this move ruined their friendships?
Am I healthy?
We’re in a unique and unprecedented season where my husband works out of town all week, every week. And I feel like this has upped our general anxiety levels. We feel off-kilter, and a little less stable when we’re apart. I’m in full-time manager mode most of the time, and it looks more controlling than it does efficient.
I’ve been ruminating on this quote all winter from the theologian, Jurgen Moltmann:
“Anxiety is anticipated terror. Hope is anticipated joy.”
I will admit that I’m pretty skilled at anticipating terror. Truthfully, I know how to flip out about a lizard… or a news story… or a rash… or a weather report. I have much less practice anticipating joy. When my thoughts run wild, as they often do, I have to stop myself and name what is going on.
We have one drawer in our refrigerator that squeaks every time we open it. And it’s the drawer where we keep the cheese, be it shredded cheese, string cheese, cubed cheese, etc. Our dog, Rosie, loves cheese. She would eat herself sick on it. So anytime she hears that cheese drawer open, even if she’s several rooms away, she comes bounding into the kitchen. Why? Because she is anticipating cheese, which equates to great joy!
I want to live a little more like my dog rather than always anticipating terror or bad news or pain or discomfort around every corner. I want to anticipate some joy because I think it might do wonders for my anxiety, maybe even for our collective anxiety as a family.
When I feel the warmth of the sun on a late February afternoon, I want to anticipate the joys of spring with its longer days and blooming flowers. When I see my oldest daughter express excitement about getting her driver’s permit, I want to anticipate the joys of watching her grow in independence and maturity.
Yes, the world is dark and scary. We live amidst real terrors. Not all the lizards are harmless. BUT…
As Jonathan Edwards, the famed revivalist preacher, said: “Essential to our present joy is the anticipation of greater joy to come.”
If we can believe that the opening words of the simple mealtime prayer are true: God is Great, God is good…, we’re better equipped to step into the hallway. Lizards may be out there, but joy might be just around the corner as well.
“I remain confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.”
Psalm 27:13
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