Walls that don't protect

 

(My Garden of Eden including snakes)

 I allow something to exist in my life that inflicts deep anxiety, and fear. I allow it because I don’t dare deal with it.  I have snakes on my property, mostly in a rock wall in the backyard.  They aren't little garden snakes. Each Spring their shedded skin confirms they are still here, and growing! I should not have snakes in my yard.  My neighbors don’t have snakes.  Why do I?  I live in an Urban neighborhood in Salt Lake City, Utah.  I did not know we would be sharing residence with them when we moved in over 10 years ago!   Had I known, I absolutely would have passed on the house.  Our first Spring here, they revealed themselves and I found myself in a living nightmare. I can’t think of anything more terrifying than dealing with snakes. 

 I asked my Dad's wife, who identifies as a Pet Psychic, to talk with my snakes while she was visiting one afternoon. I 've never heard of a Pet Psychic so when this came up, I couldn’t help myself.  

"What do you want to know about them?" She questions me.

I am embarrassed to let her know how afraid I am of them. So I don’t tell her. I don’t have the words to describe my fear.  Maybe it's like the feeling, one would have seconds before facing a tragic death. (I haven’t met anyone who has survived that feeling to confirm its validity…it’s that dramatic) Do snakes interfere with my daily life or sense of safety? Yes, but mostly because we live in the same spot.  I don’t think about snakes if I am out and about in places where they aren’t normally present, but they are the first thing I think about if I am in their territory.  Have I had traumatic experiences with snakes that I do not remember? Who knows? Is it evolutionary?  I have read stories of my ancestors being afraid and know for sure my Grandpa hated them, probably as much as I do.

"How many are there?"   I ask her… to ask them.

I watch her scan my yard.  She doesn't say anything.  I turned to my dad for an explanation.  

"She doesn't need to be next to them." He whispers. "She can communicate with them in the backyard from here.”  We watch her together.  It is nothing fantastic like the Harry Potter movies. Her body is still with eyes closed, like she is enjoying a refreshing breeze, not summing reptiles.

 “I don’t know what to think about this” My Dad admits.  “I’ve watched animals (even wild animals) walk up to her from out of hiding” He says in wonder. “Something happens between them.” He laughs shrugging his shoulders..  

 "Ummm…Many." She calculates.  

I regret asking. 

"They are happy here" she says in her South African accent.

“They are harmless, really," she smiles like she is talking about puppies. 

That is not my reality.  I feel like their prey.  In the beginning it took a herculean effort to go outside. When I am afraid the most, one appears. It seems to me that I attract them. I rarely take walks alone on a river path near my house because when I do, I see a snake. I wasn’t surprised to learn “Scientists have shown the human brain reacts to seeing a snake even before it has cognitively processed the image.i.e., we can be scared of a snake before we know it's there”(SMU,(2012 March,23)Study: Fear of snakes may be genetic)  

It is obvious my life will coincide with snakes for as long as I live in this house so I've decided I have to do something about my anxiety.  Tragically, our rendezvous happens when no one is around to rescue me. The bravest thing I have come up with is to return to the snake after I’ve thrown my knee-jerking fit, to observe it before getting rid of it.  I look at its black beady (and evil) eyes, slim head and cringy scales, for as long as I can. I am tortured with the dilemma to go our separate ways (and wonder if we will meet again) or remove it myself, and know for certain I have one less snake in my yard.  Touching it is unthinkable. Killing it is horrifying. Wrangling it onto a rake is my compromise and it takes hours to recover. If it is garbage day, I dump it in the trash, otherwise it goes down the sidewalk drain around the corner, away from my house.  

According to Google: “When you completely avoid your fears, you teach yourself you can’t handle them.  If you face them in small doses, it can help decrease anxiety.” My small doses over the past decade have decreased my anxiety from a 10 to an 8.9. I might not scream as dramatically or run away as far as I used to, but that is about it.  I turn away and seal my eyes shut, even if I see one on TV, a picture, or a print of clothing,

 I don’t talk to snakes like a Pet Psych, but I do talk to God about my snakes. Praying is as instinctive as the fear. “Why am I so afraid?”  I continually ask. My brain knows a snake from my backyard is not going to kill me (most likely), but I am basically begging for my life and wishing I were anywhere but in a standoff with one.  

One summer afternoon,(about 6 years into this mess) I was in the weeds with God and the snakes again. “Why am I so afraid?” I asked in self pity.

I thought about how great it would be to move freely in my yard. I need “yard therapy” but it comes with so much dread.  My steps are carefully placed, my eyes don’t veer far from my task, and my heart thumps with each reach into the weeds.  

“Is there something to be learned?”  I ask, begrudgingly.  I rather stay out of my backyard than “play nice” with snakes. 

“Can you make them go away?”  I suggest.  “Fixing it would make a meaningful difference in my life, but I rather fear snakes than face them.” I confess.

 I looked over my yard and counted over 20 spots I have seen a snake since moving in.  It seems way too coincidental that my biggest fear lives in my backyard, a place I love to spend my time (and needs a lot of attention). “Why this?”  I prayed. “Why me?”  

I sat slumped in the grass, for some time, trying to decide if I had it in me to continue working.  I am surprised that I haven’t given up yard work altogether. 

 I truly believe God hears my slithering snake prayers, but it took me 10 years to listen back. Last week I saw the first Spring snake off the step of my back patio.  It froze, like I did, when I noticed it.  “Why?!!” I balked at God in exhaustion of my fear.

 I yelled for Sam, but down played my anger because the 3 year old was watching and I don’t want to influence his reaction to snakes.  Sam scooped up the snake (with the rake) and the 3 year old in his free arm and together they left the property.  

That snake did me in.  “I’m ready to know!” I committed  partly to myself but mostly to God.  My mood was ruined and I started wondering how many snakes were right beneath me under the porch.   

 “Write about your fear of snakes.” was His response.  Writing has always been my way of hearing God.  I write, and He gives me the words .  That night I began writing.  

 As I put my fear to paper I struggle, for days, to get it right. I have to slow down in places I want to skip.

“Why are you writing about snakes?” Sam asked surprised.  

“I don’t know yet.” was my answer.  

I start and stop. Read and rewrite, until I find the right words.  I have layers of reasons why I think I am so afraid.  The biggest being, I don’t want to give away my fear to know.

While writing today, a specific memory of a snake came up. It was an aggressive snake! I chased it across the lawn, with a rake as it headed for the fence line. It felt like I was chasing the Devil himself. I was so afraid but driven with determination to get rid of it. My hands shook as I tried to balance the rake as far away from me as possible, with it dangling and squirming to get free. I distinctly remember thinking: “This is the worst moment of my life!!”  If the snake would have slipped off the rake I would've had a panic attack. I ran for the garbage can on the street begging God to help me win.  It took some shaking of the rake for the snake to slip into the garbage.  I dropped the rake then I ran into the house, like I was being chased by a lion. I was angry I had to do such a horrifying task and refused to go back outside.  Under any other circumstance, I would share a frightening experience with others and be dramatic about the ordeal, to make light of it, but not this.  This left me motionless on my couch for most of the day.  I couldn’t do anything  until I witnessed the garbage truck haul my nightmare away.  

I still cringe when I think about it. Why did this memory come up today?  

I return to the experience; starting at the instant I see the snake.  My “fight or flight” instinct kicked in and surprisingly I chose to fight. As always, I cried out to God in frustration: “Why am I so afraid?” while I moved TOWARD the snake instead of running away. 

The next 2 minutes, I wrestle with a snake. I survived.  

It is the answer God has been telling me all along.

 “I want to show you that you can ENDURE affliction….even afflictions you fear.”

He is not going to take away the snakes or my fear of them. That is ok as long as He continues to stand in the weeds with me, I will survive.

He used snakes to provoke(anger) me, fear to challenge (test) me, and passion to uphold me. 

He used my location to encircle me, my agency to choose Him, then my faith to strengthen me.