Owl Pellets and Big Lips

"So it's the compressed and indigestible parts of a rat that get regurgitated,” Ben concludes as we continue on our hike to Red Hill. He has just explained owl pellets to me. And all along I thought these things I avoided on the path were simply furry wolf droppings! I need to get nature's body functions straightened out. Good thing Ben is around for this.

In college, there was this dating seminar. I really don't remember anything about it save one piece of advice: if you don't like how the person eats on the first date, don't continue to date them. “The goal of dating should be finding your marriage partner so there is the distinct possibility that you will be sitting across from this person for the rest of your life. Make sure you can stand the way they ingest,” they warned. I believe the essential point was “Don't go into dating thinking you can and will change someone” but nevertheless I really started becoming more attentive to the way people ate, the way I ate. And let me just say that I am thankful humans don't eat like owls.

The seminar also encouraged making a list of that which you wanted in a partner. I fought making that list and thought I was above it; I would not belittle God by putting parameters on Him, turning Him into that cosmic vending machine. He knows what is best and in this I would trust; besides I should focus on being the partner. It turns out though that such thinking of mine was also quite self-centered and prideful. I was too “spiritual” to admit to God that there was indeed things I really wanted, really hoped for and was too embarrassed to say. After all, I was an independent content-with-my-relationship-with-God girl and was going to change the world with my singleness. If God wanted me in partnership, He would do so in His timing, however He saw fit.

Then an event happened in my life that overrode my self-pride and replaced it with another type of self-righteousness so I succumbed to making the list. In secret, as I contemplated my items, I vowed I would marry the “right” man, that I would not go against my standards even in a time of desperateness. The directions were to label the list into three categories: non-negotiable, negotiable, and desirable. Loves the Lord with all his heart, non-negotiable. Athletic, negotiable. Loves the outdoors, non-negotiable. Big lips, desirable. I don't remember the whole list but I remember these. Throughout the years, I wish I could have forgotten about it because, honestly, I still am a little embarrassed by it, but now I look at Ben and I am continually amazed. Amazed not by the thought that we are so “right” for each other because I don't believe in that but rather I am simply amazed by grace and am daily grateful. Knowing how animals digest their food, absentmindedly humming “Do you know the muffin man?” as we walk down the street in the drizzle, the ability to work through a problem until it is solved because he knows there is a solution, these were not on that list but they should have been. And for those of you that are curious, yes, I do like the way Ben eats. (And I am glad he is not an owl.)