Eaten for Lunch

“Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe…”

Once a week Meg has joined Ivy for lunch, but this week I was able to go. So we debated who would come. Ivy wanted us both, but someone should stay with Phoebe. So we let Ivy choose. Rather than straight up pick one of us, she did “eeny, meeny, miny…”. Pointing back and forth, the limerick went on, with many additions that do not belong in the version I know. When she got to the end, her pointer finger started to bounce back and forth between me and Meg much quicker than the words. Finally she landed on me! Victorious.

Later I mentioned this to Meg and she said, “I could tell Ivy wanted to choose you, since you had not been, but she did not want to hurt my feelings.” Hence the elaborate, but predestined, game.

“Catch a Tiger by its toe…”

Staying with Phoebe is a requirement – for us. But interesting stories from the past. My grandma was a devout Catholic. She would go to Mass daily. As her seven children grew and headed off to school she would leave the youngest taking a nap as she went to the service. The story always amazed me. How could she take such a risk? After-all, you can not catch a tiger by it’s toe! But she would say a prayer to a Patron Saint (I believe St. Jude) and leave her worries behind. She knew God would protect her child. (And the child is brilliant today – with a little girl he named after his mom!)

“If it hollers let it go…”

When life roars challenges we so often try to manipulate the situation. We take precautions, we maneuver politically, we form alliances, we … we take control. After all who can we trust except ourselves? Sometime we are crafty enough to be successful, but other times I think we find ourselves holding tightly to the toe of a roaring tiger… Our mauling always comes as a surprise – after all it worked so perfectly in our minds. In our minds we were only dealing with a stuffed tiger. Something our quick wit easily overcomes. Reality is always a little more challenging.

“Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe…”

I have been thinking a lot about these tigers and how to deal with them. Every instance I feel like I am guessing, playing a game with the choices, “Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe” I am rarely sure what is the best, but last night I called my mom – which is how the poem ends,

“My mother told me to pick the very best one and you are it.”

And her advice was a calm question, “Why are you concerned with the Tigers?” Trust God. Do what He has called you to do. He will protect His children…

So let us go out on mission with Christ. Love and liberate our neighbors. And when we leave the zoo behind we will find all the tigers have been caged the whole time…

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