Remember the blogs about those crazy swollen lips-or just
other ridiculous thoughts that run through me? This post is right up that same
alley, and has been a long time coming. After nearly three weeks in the South,
I can no longer last another day without expressing these thoughts.
Y’all, I love animals. It’s no small thing. Like I really, really love them. Many hours in Georgia are passed with me
snuggling Schiz on the couch, and trying to convince the Thornhills to let me
sneak the cat into my suitcase. When I’m in Minnesota, there are not enough
hours in the day for me to spend smothering Nova-and this puppy love affair has
been going on for way more than ten years. (When I used to have facebook), I
used to update Nova’s dogbook and had an entire album devoted to only the most
precious pictures of her.
Then, there’s elephants. My heart wants to burst when I think of how much I love them. I have a separate voice and decibel reserved for conversations revolving around these beauties.
…You get the point…
Let’s get back to Jesus.
Summer 2009. Life is in the tubes, and I am desperately
looking for anything to latch onto. Things were starting to get desperate,
which luckily for us meant Jesus took this moment in time to make Himself amply
known to me. Now, for a long time I have said He did this because I was
searching for Him. Sure, there’s truth to that.
Here’s an alternate theory. I think He was probably worried
that if He didn’t come on the scene, I would have taken all my misplaced energy
and run down the wacky PETA trail. I say this because after that summer in
Cambodia, I had eaten pig ears, purple cow, uncooked chicken and come home with
a parasite that kept me in shape as I spent most of my time running to nearby
toilets. For months.
I became a vegan because my body could process NOTHING, and
I began eating at vegan restaurants, which are more than happy to advertise all
the mistreatments done to animals. Woe is me the Animal Lover.
Let’s fast-forward. I began eating meat again, but my love
for animals has only increased. The bulk of my adult years stateside has been
spent in Los Angeles-where wildlife is nowhere to be found, with the exception
of cockroaches, flies, and rats. Post race, I make friends with some good ol’
Southern folk, and spend a good chunk of time in Georgia where the leaves
change and smiles are as common as flannel and cowboy boots. It’s lovely here,
truly.
But.
Treatment of Animals.
Oh. My. Gosh. I forgot about road kill since leaving Ohio.
It’s everywhere. Like, I cannot leave
the house and get to a gas station without passing blood-and-guts squirrels,
raccoons, and even DOGS and DEER smear. Even after three weeks here, y’all, I
cannot get used to it. My stomach aches thinking about it.
But what makes it worse? Everyone is in camouflage! It’s
hunting season-people are intentionally out to KILL the animals! I just don’t
understand.
I know the Lord told us all the animals were ours, that we
are to subdue and take dominion over creation, and I know that was even original
intention before the fall. But. Something in me didn’t get corrected with the
cross. I’m still trying to love and hug all animals.
Here’s a nice example. I went to the Adventures in Missions
office to say goodbye to some folks, and I came across this:
How am I supposed to react? THIS IS NOT SOMETHING WE SEE IN
CALIFORNIA. Back home when we want to give a thoughtful gift to non-profits, we
send a veggie tray with hummus or maybe some flowers… NOT an old bear hide we had laying
around the cabin.
To complicate things, Gainesville is the self-proclaimed
chicken capital of the world. Could it be because it is a large contributor to
the SIX BILLION chickens we kill a year for food? This number wouldn’t be so
obscene to me if I hadn’t found out that the normal life expectancy of a
chicken is fifteen years, but that of a poultry chicken is only SEVEN WEEKS.
My feathers are a little ruffled right now thinking of all
those hormones I ingest when I eat my chick-fil-a. Then again, free range chicken
just doesn’t fit into the budget of a support raising girl.
All this to say, I know Jesus came into the picture because
“animal rights” is not the mountain He wants me to die on (though clearly I take
that liberty anyway). We should all be glad that Jesus took over, so
your emails are being filled with stories of His glory instead of my gushing
about how cuddly and fluffy animals are.
I know this post is on the silly side of the spectrum, but I know the Lord wants us to think about the battles we choose to fight–which ones are actually worth it? Probably a lot fewer than the battles we pick.
—-
Want to hear how camp was for some of my N squad racers?
Patty met a personal God and got over her crush on Him!
Julie found freedom to be herself!
Eric encountered the magnitude of the I Am.
