Tyler – Part 2

As I write this, Tyler is the only one of our vast menagerie who hasn’t gone the way of all mortal flesh – and the family joke is that we’ll have to gift him to one of the kids in our will because he just might outlive us! One of the things I find the most charming about Tyler is his seasonal habits. Tortoises go into a period of brumation during the winter – think hibernation for a bear. If he was still living in the desert, he’d dig himself a nice burrow, crawl down in it and not reappear until spring. But since we live on adobe soil, that’s not really an option for him. So, every year, when he begins to slow down in the fall and stop searching for food, we set up a box in a corner of our house, as far away as we can get from constant activity. We pick him up out of his enclosure, walk him into the house and place him in the box where he takes a look around at four blank walls of cardboard, exhales deeply and completely relaxes … and it seems minutes later he’s sound asleep until spring. Every once in a while during the ensuing months, we go in, fold back the lid on the box and touch him. He responds by drawing his limbs into his shell and hissing at us. That’s how we make sure he’s okay. When we walk away, he immediately goes back to sleep. He is by far the most low-maintenance critter I’ve ever had!

The only thing we have to be careful about is keeping ourselves aware of what he might be doing as spring arrives and the weather starts to heat up. Over twenty years ago, when all the kids were still at home, there was a day when our youngest walked down the stairs to our kitchen to find me. “Mom,” she said, “Tyler’s walking around the living room.” Ooops. Fortunately, she found him before he found the stairs! As recently as the spring of 2019, he’d been enjoying his brumation in an unused bathroom, and since it was still March, I didn’t think he’d be stirring yet. My sister was visiting from Washington state and heard noises as she came by the bathroom door… she walked into the kitchen and said, “I think Tyler’s up.” Sure enough, not only was he awake, but he’d dug himself completely out of the box and the only reason he was still in the bathroom was he’d managed to push the door closed just far enough to close himself in.

There are two lessons I’m taking from these facets of Tyler’s approach to life.

First, his ability to transition from one external situation to another in a matter of minutes with total acceptance. He goes from being outside in the fresh air, with his own grass yard and shelter box, where he can move about at will, to being indoors, confined inside four cardboard walls, in a space that’s just big enough for him to turn around – and his response is, “Oh good. I can close my eyes and rest for as long as I need to.” And, he does! That’s the kind of peace and security our heavenly Father offers us – but, how often do I want to battle my circumstances instead of just resting in the security of his love? Let me tell on myself: far too often!

Second – his ability to fight against the odds, when deep down he knows there’s a reason to fight. The cardboard boxes we use for his brumation period aren’t little wimpy things; they’re sturdy enough to ship heavy things in. But, when Tyler knows it’s time to move, those boxes aren’t going to keep him contained. If Tyler was in the wild, making any other choice could be deadly. There are times in my life when I know that I’m being called to press through, keep going, and climb over or through the obstacles in my path. But I have to be honest and say that sometimes, as far as I’m concerned, it’s just too much effort (a.k.a. work) and I’d rather not expend the energy or risk the pain. I need to remember to ask myself, “What am I risking by not moving when God tells me to?”

In both those instances, I believe Tyler has deep set instincts that tell him what to do next. I also believe that God has given us instincts, i.e., fight or flight. But, as followers of Jesus, we also have the Holy Spirit … if we listen and pay attention, we’ll hear that whisper about when to rest and when to fight. After that it’s just a matter of obedience … which, in my life, isn’t always as easy as it might sound!

There may be future stories about Tyler; I don’t know yet. But I hope you’ll keep him in mind when you find yourself needing to trust, rest and/or fight.

Until next time …