A few summers ago one of our daughters worked at a nature center. She gave tours and helped patrons learn about native birds and reptiles. By the end of August she was even certified in snake handling. I think it's on her resume right under web design.

 

In terms of personal reform snakes do seem to take things to an extreme. Deer lose their rack each winter, abandoning them in the naive belief that more will appear. Which they do. Hermit crabs routinely outgrow their shells and must vie for a bigger one.  But copperheads recklessly shed their entire outer casing in the pursuit of a fresh one. Sounds risky. Ecdysis renders them vulnerable until supple skin forms. Yet it is part of the circle of life, and the slitherer lives to eat another day. Or night. 

 

Easter is a time to reflect on how Jesus shed his earthly body in favor of a celestial one. The process seemed excruciating, even in the scant account afforded me in scripture. 

 

A friend told me she is finding her marriage too restricting. The expectations are strangling her, and she is searching for a way to breathe. Things must change. But the oxymoron of staying committed while transforming a withered relationship is not easily reconciled. 

 

John and I wriggled our way through a tight conversation the other day. We both felt vulnerable and rattled our defenses. It was a squeeze to get the words out, and to hear one another. While we were in the middle of it I wanted to escape. Be anywhere else. But I was half in, and half out. 

 

Awhile later the tears have dried, and I think my understanding has grown just a bit.