It happens

I won't include a photo with this post. You're welcome.

This evening when I got home, I accidentally stepped in a large pile of dog poop. Of course, I had to document this incident immediately as an analogy for emotional healing. You know me.

"He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake." (Psalm 23:3)

Tonight I got home somewhat late, so I had to park farther away from my apartment than I usually do. I started walking, and then I saw another vehicle enter the parking lot. I instinctively stepped onto the nearby curb and grass for safety's sake. Unfortunately, the area isn't well lit, so by the time I felt my shoe squish deeply into a pile of non-grass, it was too late. I wiped my shoe as best I could on the sidewalk. While I continued walking toward my apartment, I could smell the dog poop on me.

When I got home, I immediately removed my shoes and headed for the bathroom. The dog poop was on one of my shoes and on the bottom of my jeans. The cleanup was meticulous and MacGyverish, and it involved whatever I could find in my bathroom to help remove the undesirable substance from my possessions.

Dog poop is a rather minor thing, so I was surprised at how angry I quickly became. I considered calling the apartment office and reporting the incident so that they could reinforce the poop fines at their property. I thought about composing a status update on Facebook to invite the poopetrator to come visit my home right after my large cat had made a deposit in the litterbox, step in it, and soil his/her only pair of tennis shoes and blue jeans, just to see how I felt. I mean, I'm a cat person. I own self-cleaning animals on purpose. I don't want to deal with dog poop, especially from a total stranger. I was very disgusted and inconvenienced, to say the least. The dog didn't offend me. Dogs poop. They can't help it. It's the owner who didn't clean up after the pooch that offended me. So, of course, I had to forgive the mystery poopetrator for this incident. Then I could move on with my life.

Just when I had finished cleaning my shoe, I noticed that there was dog poop on my other shoe, too. You gotta be kidding me.

So, as a result of somebody's carelessness/irresponsibility, and as a result of my not staying off the grass, I lost about an hour and a half of my life.

But it wasn't a total loss. As a result of this entire incident, I realized that I need to buy new shoes -- not because the poop defiled them but because I took a closer look at them and saw that they've been wearing out, anyway. I also realized that the grass is no longer a safe place to walk at night. (It used to be, but I've lived here for almost two years, and I think I have all-new neighbors now. I think they're dog people.) And I wouldn't be surprised if someday down the road, somebody will approach me and say something to the effect of, "Hey, I heard you once stepped in a really huge pile of crap and got it on your only pair of jeans and your only pair of tennis shoes. How did you clean all that crap out? I recently stepped in a nasty pile of crap myself, and I could really use some advice."

Tonight before the poop incident occurred, a friend offered to take me clothes-shopping. I think I'll take her up on that.

"Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who works in you both to will and to do for His good pleasure." (Philippians 2:12-13)

So, accidentally stepping in a large pile of dog poop reminds me of some stuff.

Sometimes when you're just walking along, living life, minding your own business, you'll accidentally step in somebody else's mess. Perhaps it's late, and it's dark, and you didn't see the incident coming. But suddenly you've been defiled, and now you have to deal with the cleanup.

While you're cleaning up the mess, a zillion thoughts zip through your head. How could another human being be so careless as to leave this stuff lying around for you to defile yourself with? Don't they know that you only have one life to live, one soul, one heart, and you don't want it nasty? Don't other people realize that you go to great lengths to keep yourself clean, and you can't afford any kind of unexpected messes?

You're disgusted with the fact that you've brought this mess into your home. You're terrified at the thought of any kind of foreign substances harming your loved ones. (Parasites and germs from a dog can't harm my cats, can they?) So, you clean up the mess as thoroughly as you can, not only for your sake but also for your family's sake.

I think in this analogy, the "mess" can be a variety of different things: generational iniquities, abuse, excessive criticism, word toxicity, etc. It's a large pile of poop that somebody leaves lying around, and it's waiting for you to step in it and defile yourself with it.

It could ruin your life if you don't deal with it. What if you were to just leave the mess intact and ignore it completely? You'd have little piles of messes all over your floor. Your family would innocently find it and probably be very repulsed by it. You couldn't invite anybody over; or if you did, they probably wouldn't want to linger in your home. "Um, aren't you going to clean this up?" they'd ask in disgust. "Clean what up?" you'd ask in denial with a classic Pharisee smile.

Regarding the literal dog poop, of course, it could have been worse. Instead of merely stepping in poop, I could have tripped and smushed my face into it. I could have been viciously attacked by the dog in question. I could have been mocked by passersby. I could have been wrongfully accused by the dog-poop police and fined. My imagination is completely going nuts now. Don't worry; be poopy. Poop goes the weasel. Have poop, will travel.

Metaphorically speaking, I can't clean up poop all by myself. God needs to thoroughly clean all the nooks and crannies, and His disinfectant is more powerful than anything they sell in stores. He won't lecture me about all the stuff I should have done so as to avoid my mess. But I'll know next time that I'll need to lean on Him while I'm walking so that I won't make the same mistake twice.

He bought me new shoes, new clothes, a new heart, a new being, a new everything. It's all brand new, and I didn't have to do anything to earn it. (I couldn't, anyway.) And none of my new stuff stinks. None of it is defiled. It is new, fresh, and pure.

Have I mentioned lately that I'm a cat person?