I like to save things from an otherwise shabby life. An abandoned kitten- the runt of the litter, or an old ugly dresser with "good bones."
Over the weekend I bought this low 2-drawer chest for $4 at a seemingly weak garage sale down the street. White and dirty and piled with junk, I could imagine it looking real pretty in a corner of my bedroom in a very certain blue. I bought it, brought it home and found the color I wanted on the Benjamin Moore website (Picture Perfect.). Ordered it from the paint store. Voila. Bada bing, bada boom. There you have it. $4, folks. Plus the paint of course. But that gets used on other things too. Until The Brad says..."more blue, huh?" when he sees me in the garage painting the frame of a mirror, some old file cabinets. Eh Beey, he says. (That's how we say "Oh Boy." We say it a little different around here. Because...we are a little different.)
So. Wait. I'm not finished. Then I was a little, shall we say, hormonal. But. Let me preface what comes next with this statement: "hormonal" doesn't make me all that different. I don't DO certain things I wouldn't normally do because I'm a little hormonal. I just cry about those things when I would usually have the wherewithal to hold it together. That is the difference. Tears.
So, what I'm telling you is this: Either way, I would have gone to the humane society yesterday. No, mom, I didn't come home with an animal. But I did walk through the isles and touch most of the dogs through the gates. Several were in the play yard so I played with a few. Some were nervous and wondering who I was. Just another seemingly nice woman making deep eye contact and then walking out of view.
People I know, pretty much everyone, would find me crazy for visiting the humane society in my current "full-house" situation. A friend I ran into later that day borderline berated me for doing it. Well, I don't expect everyone to understand. She may not pick a $4 dresser up either. Not many people would be so into saving dressers or animals that have been neglected. It's just how I am. For better or worse.
The Brad understands. Perhaps more about the animals and less about the dresser. You want to save them very badly, he said. And someday- we will save more. Someday we will have more land. More space. I want to save the animals, too. he said.
I told him what a friend told me yesterday on my blog: Saving one animal won't save the world, but it will save the world for that animal. Oh. How that blew me away. I hate bumper stickers, but I would wear that one proudly. (Thanks Amanda.)
When I walk around my house, I pass two funny labs who want to be taken to the park. So I take them. I may momentarily feel irritated at the prospect, but then we are in the park, in the fresh air. Always good. When we get home I go to my chicken and duck coop- and sure they're a little noisy. They're excited to see me. They know I will be bearing treats and talking to them about this and that as I gather the eggs. As I come back in the house I almost trip over the cat. I pick her up and squeeze her, make sure she has fresh water. I love all of them. It's not for everyone, but it's for me. My house is clean, my family and animals are happy and well-fed. There's a lot of us and plenty of love to go around. Plenty of Love. And that's how I like it. That's the ship I run.
Brad understands the depths of what it feels like to want to make a difference in the world in this way, saving lives. He may have to hold me back a little here and there (or try to at least), he may be more logical about the reality of constraints, but he understands my feelings- the depths of the feelings. The endless depths I row along in...an old dresser, an abandoned kitten, a forgotten dog... I see the potential for love. And so I turn my sails towards love. And I always will.