The Parable of the Dog Poop

 

                During the summer before our first foster baby arrived in our home, I had been working towards participating in my first ever 5K run.  This was the summer after I had my pulmonary embolism episode, in which my doctor described my lungs as “showered with blood clots.”  After a traumatic 9-day stint in the hospital, I was left feeling weak and defeated in mind, body, and spirit.  I spent the ensuing fall and winter on blood thinners with strict orders to rest and let my body heal. 

                The following spring, my mom encouraged me to get out and walk in the evenings with her several times a week.  Grudgingly, I accepted the invitation, and we would meet at a park nearby and my two kids would play while my mom and I walked the cement path around the perimeter.

As my body got stronger, and the walking got less difficult, I decided to set a measurable goal for myself.  Our city just happened to be advertising its very first annual marathon and I signed up for the 5K, which would take place in October of that same year.  It turned out to be great motivation because I had to pay for my registration, and I didn’t want to lose that money I had invested.  I was also secretly terrified of coming in last place and having to drag my own carcass across the finish line.

                By the time the kids started school again in the fall, I had lost 20 pounds, we had our first foster baby, and I was one month away from my 5K goal.  I was in the habit of walking and didn’t want to let the back-to-school routine and the new baby slow my momentum, so I went on walks with the baby after the kids left to school.

                On this particular day, I was walking a 2-mile loop through our neighborhood.  This was before I owned a smartphone or other portable device with music, so I used my walking time to think and ponder.  As I was pushing the stroller with foster baby down the sidewalk, I noticed a dark lump of dog poop right in the middle of the sidewalk.  Scanning ahead, I discovered that I had a few choices if I wanted to avoid the obstacle.  I could go around it by steering the stroller out into the street, or veer onto the grass beside the sidewalk, or remain on the sidewalk and try to straddle it between the wheels of the stroller.  Not wanting to be bothered with walking into the street and around a parked car, or four-wheeling my stroller through uneven grass, I opted to straddle the poop and stay the course. 

                I pushed forward, gauging the distance between the stroller wheels and the malodorous hazard, and confidently strolled over the poop, glancing down to make sure I didn’t step in it after it had cleared the stroller.  My glance down, however, revealed that one of the wheels had gone right through the offensive deposit, leaving it smaller than before.  Stunned at this turn of events, I inspected the front wheels to discover the missing portion of poop, now mangled between the double wheels on the right side.  Apparently, the distance between the two front wheels was shorter than the distance between the two back wheels.  In short, rather than taking the time and making the effort to bypass the obstacle in my path, I had simply plowed right through it.

                Crap.

                With the sharply unpleasant aroma of dog feces, now unleashed and wafting up from the wheels, I heaved the stroller through the bumpy and uneven grass along the sidewalk to try to clean off the poop, only to have it pushed further in between the double wheels.  Frustrated, I stopped and searched for baby wipes in the stroller caddy so I could clean the wheels but found none.  I was only a quarter of the way through the loop, and I didn’t want to turn around and go home, so I pressed forward and resumed my walk.  I was reminded of my poor choice every thirty seconds or so as the pungent perfume of eau de poop penetrated my delicate senses.   

                As I continued to walk and ponder, cursing my laziness and poor judgement skills, the Spirit worked on me, opening my mind to a teaching moment.

                First, this was not a permanent thing.  I would not always have dog poop stuck to the wheels of the stroller.  I would be able to clean it off when I got home.  It would be smelly, unpleasant, and take a bit of time and effort, but it would not be impossible. 

                Second, I had gained knowledge.  I knew now that the distance between wheels in the front of the stroller was narrower than the distance between the back wheels and I would use this knowledge in the future to make better choices.

                Third, I had gained perspective.  I knew now that if I had taken the time to avoid the poop, no matter how inconvenient, I would have consequently avoided the unpleasant odor and cleanup.

                Then the Spirit gave me an “ah-ha” moment: 

                There will be many times in my life that I will see metaphorical poop in my path and have a choice to make.  I can try to plow through it and hope to not have it stick to me, or I can avoid it altogether by choosing a different path, even if that path is inconvenient or more difficult.  Avoiding the poop is easier than having to live with the smell and then putting in the work to clean it off.

If, despite my efforts to avoid it, I find myself with poop clinging to my shoes, I have another choice to make.  I can curse God or those around me for the poop that has soiled my footwear, or I can ignore it and hope it goes away on its own, or I can buckle down and clean it off.

                 I heard someone once say something like, “You can’t walk through a barnyard without picking up some poop on the way.”  So, I guess if I want to avoid poop, I shouldn’t don’t go to places where I know there will be poop. 

                There are many beautiful and wonderful things to experience in this mortal life, but like the barnyard, we are likely going to pick up some poop along the way, no matter how careful we are.  Our loving and understanding Father in Heaven has provided us a Savior, knowing that we will need His cleansing power to become clean again.  I hope I have the clarity of mind to intentionally choose to utilize that gift, rather than to wander through life with poop on my shoes.