Today, after cleaning out his tank, I found myself talking to my Beta Fish—
PeriAquaKillian. I was mostly asserting his beauty (even though most of it has faded) but
I was also thanking him for being so brave. Brave enough to be all alone in his cube,
aside from his three rocks, and deal with my problems—on top of his own! We are
codependent, my fish and I. I shower him with words of encouragement and the
occasional bath (both of which I am convinced have contributed to his lifespan) and he is
there for me—a constant reminder and a humble teacher. He is always willing to
emerge from his little terrain to assist me with my latest woes. I believe God wanted me
to have this fish for a reason.
One might argue that a fish is less of a “pet” than, say, a cat or a dog (maybe on
the account that it can be rather difficult to physically pet a fish)… but I’d like to say that
such a standard is inappropriate. Rather then flaunting a flashy routine of tricks, a fish is
perhaps the most disciplined of listeners. They show their love (or loyalty…
whatever…) through their ability to listen; in comparison to a dog who might show such
affection by physical means... Today, during our conversation, Peri did most of the
listening; which concerned me because, unlike most fish, he normally has something to
say about everything.
I believe God endowed each of his creations with their own bit of relevant
wisdom; and each of our bits come together like a puzzle. In the end, the puzzle reveals
Truth—what else could God’s puzzle possibly be?! Peri’s bit of wisdom deals with
Matthew 6:25, which essentially says that tomorrow is not promised. I’ve noticed I have
felt extra sensitive to loss recently. Mainly because of my grandparents increasing age—
but I also find myself feeling concerned for all of those close to me (mostly not for their
sake, but rather, my own). While I was peering into quarters of my fading fish, I felt a
similar fear. Peri became a part of our family my freshmen year of high school, when my
father bought him for me on a whim—that was 3 years ago and according to the man at
the Mountain Nursery, Beta’s have a lifespan of 2-3 years. I found myself on the verge
of tears (which I would say is an odd reaction toward a pet fish) thinking of how our
time together is thinning and how each day he is nearing the end of his span of life.
Then Peri reminded of all the other times he grew a sickly pale color and I feared the
inevitable flush noise of a funeral residing in the next morning. I was never promised
that I would have PeriAquaKillian throughout all of my high school years, neither has
there ever been a definite warranty of “2-3 years”. The presumption of assured life is an
overrated and a foolish science for those who attempt to estimate its boundaries.
Funny enough, I find myself thanking the Lord every time I knock on his cube
and the little opossum stirs. Peri has helped me realize that I don’t believe in lifespan
warranties one bit—who says my Peri can’t outlive myself? Well, maybe a lot of people
say that… but surely the Lord of the entire universe can prolong a fish’s life as much as he
can prolong such a great tree as a Sequoia, or let alone, the United States of America.
No comments :
Post a Comment