So this past August I went up to Montana for my annual off-the-grid escape and stayed with a friend. As usual, she opened her home to many, and we had a bonfire to catch up with old friends and get to know new ones.
One of her friends was very nice, but a little strange. He began talking about how much he loved animals, so much so that he couldn't bear to feed live rats to his pet snakes. He eventually sold his snakes after one escaped and 'murdered' one of the now 'pet' rats.
You know what they say—when the snake’s away, the rats will play/procreate! And so they did.
Before he knew it, his basement was crawling with 'pets'. He had more than a hundred at one time, and knew them all by name. But sadly, they only had a life span of three years, and it was heartbreaking for him to watch them die.
Um...what?
All I could picture was this.
Willard, the heartwarming film about hundreds of unlikely friends finding common ground and murdering people.
I knew that if I looked up at that moment, I would undoubtedly stare right into the eyes of the one person I knew thought this guy was as nuts as I did. And if that happened, I would burst into laughter and would look like a total a-hole...so I just stared into the fire trying to keep a neutral facial expression as I muttered niceties like, "Oh, nice," or "Huh, wow."
But as he talked further, I heard about his battle with drug addiction, and how several painful back surgeries had led to his abuse of oxycodone. His 'rat king' phase happened during the height of this addiction, and then things became a little more clear.
The more I listened to him, the more I realized what a kind soul he was and that more than anything, he needed understanding. I felt a little bad for branding him a weirdo right off the bat. Granted, the rat fetish was a little creepy, but turns out he actually wasn't.
I've been thinking a lot lately about how I view people, and how I ought to view them. Some people are just easier to be kind and understanding with than others, but that doesn't mean I should choose who gets the best side of me.
I thought back to another Montana moment from a few years back (apparently Montana is the mothership of life lessons). We were up at our family ranch when Sunday rolled around. We all piled in the ranch van (the kind that’s like a sofa on wheels) and made our way to Church.
Montana, where big skies, amazing people watching and valuable life lessons are plentiful.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with the Mormon church, the first Sunday of every month is called Fast and Testimony meeting. It’s where people are invited to get up in front of everyone and share their testimony about God, Christ, the gospel, or whatever spiritually-minded thoughts they feel merit sharing. Occasionally (usually) this leads to over-sharing, uncontrollable sobbing, or really dumb stories that have nothing to do with religion or spirituality in any way.
I'm sure this guy had great things to say, but all I could think was, "Yay! The David Bowie lookalike is in our ward!" And then I snapped this photo, mid-sacrament meeting, like an idiot.
But sometimes you have a gem of a Sunday where people offer true, sincere , lovely thoughts that make you ponder the greater things in life. This particular Sunday was no exception.
As we settled into the pew, one by one people filed up to share their thoughts. Soon an older gentleman got up to share his.
He started by announcing it had been years since he’d been to church, and that it felt good to be back. He called people out in the audience and told them how good it was to see them. This soon, however, morphed into calling people out on a more personal level.
The bishop (the head of the congregation) was the town attorney, who this guy apparently had beef with, because he suddenly started ranting about how he’d been cheated by the bishop over alimony money.
Things got real weird, real fast.
Soon he pulled a tape recorder out of his pocket and declared he had their whole conversation on tape, where he insisted the bishop had lied to and cheated him.
Men from the congregation got up and asked him to sit down if he didn’t have a testimony of spiritual matters to share, as this was not the time or place to try and defame the bishop.
He argued that he WAS sharing his testimony of Christ, and also his testimony that “that man is a LIAR!” as he firmly pointed in the Bishop’s direction.
Several men surrounded the podium, and one gently grabbed his arm to escort him back down to the seats. This threw him into a rage of f-bombs and flailing.
The men panicked and grabbed him, so he grabbed the podium mic and continued screaming. He refused to let go of the mic, and instead ripped it right out of the podium. That’s when they tackled him to the ground, and as he screamed profanities, dragged him out into the hall and then outside, his screams fading as the distance grew.
*Crickets*
I looked around in shock, not knowing how to feel, looking to others in hopes their reactions would offer some direction. I heard snickers from some of my siblings, and in attempt to ease the awkwardness, I joined in (I tend to laugh in general when things get uncomfortable).
I turned to my dad mid-snicker assuming he’d be doing the same, but was shocked to find him wiping away tears. My condescending chuckles came to an abrupt halt.
Insta-shame washed over me. While I’d sat there mocking this man, my dad had felt pure empathy for him and his pain, his feelings of betrayal and abandonment, and his desire to be understood and heard. He saw past the ‘crazy’ and into the heart of this man, and felt love for him.
I was incredibly moved by this, and never forgot that quiet, powerful lesson my dad taught me that day, that in spite of what we see on the surface, people are always worthy of our love, concern and understanding.
So maybe we all just take a second to remember that this holiday season. After all, it’s a time of year when people feel either totally and completely surrounded by love or utterly ostracized by it. So I vote that we put aside our fear of rejection, disappointment, worries about appearance or whatever and just love first, think later. Who knows how what positive change it could bring about.
Now that's a kind face. Thanks Dad for always reminding me how to be better to those around me.
