Friday, January 11, 2013

Dear Thunderfoot

If you have ever had the joy of living in a first floor apartment, it is likely that you have met Thunderfoot.   It's the mysterious beast that comes out to stomp and run and vacuum and bang walls just as you are trying to fall asleep....every night.    Since moving back into an apartment, we have our very own pet Thunderfoot.  She never sleeps, she's always loud, and she somehow finds a way to walk every inch of her 800 square foot apartment multiple times each day.  

Confession:  I strongly dislike our pet Thunderfoot, and I wish I could turn her in to a local shelter.

As true as that may be, I've learned a couple life lessons from good ole Thunderfoot.

1.  Walk softly - You never know who you're walking over.
This can have many applications, depending on where you are.  I think about my role as a manager in corporate America.  Some of the soundest advice I have given (and take to heart) is to treat everyone with respect, because you never know who will be your boss one day.    This has become especially important recently, with several re-organizations, and managers and supervisors being forced to step down a level.   The author of Hebrews provided similar counsel when he said, "Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some have unwittingly entertained angels" (Heb 13:2).

2.  Sometimes my "rights" can negatively impact someone's life.
In all honesty, Thunderfoot has every "right" to walk around her apartment whenever she wants to.   It is her home, just as my apartment is my home.  She has every "right" to vacuum her apartment when it fits into her schedule, even if it is at 11pm.   She has every "right" to hang pictures on her walls at 1am, after all, creativity often comes in the wee hours of the morning.    But she has failed to realize that her "rights" often wreak havoc in my home.    My husband and I both have to get up early for work every morning.   Our dog thinks that the roof is going to cave in, and gets a little riled.   My "right" to peace is then shattered by her "right" to riverdance above our heads.    Of course, I never let my "rights" impede someone else's life, right?  WRONG!   Maybe this is why the "golden rule" is so golden.  It's hard to come by, hard to live, and hard to have grace for.  

3.  Cursing and complaining about it don't actually resolve the problem...or make me feel any better.
Confession part B:  I have cursed Thunderfoot more times that I would like to own up to.   When it's midnight, and I have to be awake at 5:30, and I am laying in bed on pins and needles, waiting to be the next headline on the news ("Apartment caves in when 2nd floor tenant does one to many jumping-jacks"), I shake my fist in the air.    When I'm trying to watch a movie with my husband, and she's louder than our surround sound, I make a snide comment.   When I see her car pull up into the driveway, I brace myself for the pounding, cursing her under my breath.   None of these things have actually caused her to walk softer, and watch her time.   Nor has complaining to the office about it.    And really, what can they do?  Tell her not to walk in her own home?   (Ok, maybe they could address the vacuuming at 11pm issue, but we haven't told them about that yet).   What I have found, instead, is that cursing and complaining only make me angrier, which then makes me grumpier.    And while I would like to argue that grumpiness is the unmentioned fruit of the Spirit, I'm pretty sure no one would believe me.   James 3:10 says, "Out of the same mouth proceed blessing and cursing.  My brethren, these things ought not to be so."  Don't think I need to expound on that one.


In all of this, I am reminded that we CHOSE to live in an apartment, knowing full well that we would have neighbors that are close.    We CHOSE the first floor, understanding that we would be risking adoption of a pet Thunderfoot.   And overall, the blessings and the benefits have far outweighed the annoyances of this particular neighbor.    And maybe, we were sent here to bring LIFE to her?  

Dear Thunderfoot,
You may not ever meet me, but I am praying for you every day.   I see you walk into your apartment alone, looking a little sad.  I hear you moving around all hours of the day and night, like maybe you can't sleep.   You never look happy.    So I pray that you will find love and joy and peace like you've never known in the only ONE who can be all those things for you.   I pray that you will find yourself so loved that you can rest in knowing that you are accepted and adored by the Father.   I pray that the joy of His presence will so overwhelm you, that your cheeks will hurt from smiling and your belly from laughing.   I pray that you will never feel lonely, but will know Him as your best Friend and confidant.   I bless you with healing for your body, your emotions and your spirit.   I bless you with renewed sense of identity and purpose and a revelation of how valuable you are.
In Christ, your downstairs neighbor......



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