There are a slew of videos about
cows,
chickens,
dogs and
chimps that have been released from cages. They spent their entire lives behind bars, either for animal testing or big ag food production. It is impossible for me to watch and not be moved. The cows jumped for joy, the chimps hugged, the dogs ran in circles and licked each other, the chickens wobbled on spindly legs that had never been allowed to carry them
anywhere.
When I walk by my dining room window eight pairs of eyes lock on to me, waiting for a sign that I will grant the hens a romp in the yard. They scramble over each other to be first out the door, on the way to bugs and grass, or if it is late afternoon, the dirt pile. Rolling in the soft soil is a natural instinct and they flap their wings to fling it all over themselves. They look as satisfied as any bevy of beauties at an exclusive spa spritzing themselves with
perfume.
We humans spend time in cages of our own construction too. Resentment and entitlement work as well as steel for holding us trapped. Anger keeps us confined, distracting us from the spacious freedom within reach. Forgiveness is a waiting door. But grudges are familiar, and the world outside our self made walls is unknown.
Sometimes marriage feels like a constricting cage. We cannot spread our wings and fly. But I believe that
John and I are methodically cutting away the bars, each time we chose kindness over control.
When my mother was slipping out of this earthly body, some of her last words describe what it was like to step across the threshold.
"What are we celebrating? He had chocolate cake. Look how bright the sunshine is! You're pretty smiley. You're nice to hold my hand. We communicate pretty well. You talked to Dad?? They don't make farms like they used to."
