An Unexpected Guest

Dave preparing his goodbyes.

I was sat in my friend's car about to go for our quarterly trip to McDonalds. My phone vibrated in my pocket and I, even though I was with a friend, read the message. Inside the message was a grand request that would change things forever.

I forget the wording of the message but the upthrust was this. Dave has accepted a new job in Poland and needed someone to take on his guitar and his chameleon. The guitar was not a problem, I am no stranger to musical instruments but the chameleon presented a unique challenge.

I had met Ziggy before, I was impressed by her 360 degree vision and her incredibly long tongue, but I did not imagine a world in which  I would have to welcome her into my own home.

Moving day came and went. I remember Dave coaxing Ziggy out of her tank so he could load her into a polysterene tub, ready for the half hour drive to my house. I remember being overwhelmed slightly
by all the chameleon paraphernalia I was given to aid me in the task of caring for Ziggy; The Dripper, The Humidity Sensor, The 60 Watt Bulb, The Laying Bin. It all seemed like a big task, but, I was animal fact boy at school, surely I could take care of Ziggy.

Wash your hands afterwards!

Veiled chameleons come from the rain forests of Yemen and are used to humid surroundings. This means a spray first thing in the morning and another in the evening, to keep things wet and warm. A dehydrated chameleon is a sad chameleon. Every time I poked my bottle of water into the vivarium I would be met with angry hissing noises. It was in equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. Feeding time was even worse, catching live cricket from a little tub, covering them in calcium and releasing them into the vivarium. I felt sorry for the little critters as they explored their new surroundings only to be sucker punched by a wet slimy tongue and crushed to death in the reptile's powerful jaws. I could hear Sir David Attenborough narrating the whole scene in his trade mark style.

For a few months things seemed to be going very smoothly. Dave enjoyed receiving updates and pictures while he settled into Poland. I began showing pictures of Ziggy to beautiful women in an attempt to appear exotic and dangerous.  I could feed her out of my hand (I got bitten once and the pain was hideous!) and the hissing had stopped. I held her in my hands on a few occasions (washing them thoroughly afterwards of course, salmonella is not ideal!) and life seemed sweet. I was enjoying the fascinating and rewarding world of keeping my colourful new friend. 

But like, all things, there was an ordeal on its way. And it is in that ordeal where we find ourselves today. Eggs. You see, chameleons lay eggs once a year. Unfertilised of course (one chameleon is enough!). Ziggy started looking a bit chubby, a tell-tale sign she was full of eggs (gravid). Recently, Ziggy has been digging on the floor, hiding in the corner and just looking ever so grumpy. Gravid chameleons also need their privacy. I have had to cover her tank so things are peaceful for her. My cat has other ideas though, so that has been rather stressful. Egg bound chameleons lose their appetites as well and  and since the crickets I released into her tank remain untouched I think she's due any day now. There's a big pot of damp sand ready for her when she's ready.. So all I can do is wait.. and that's the hardest part. It's revealed to me yet another layer of chameleon care.

So what is the moral to this story? It is amazing how many things exist that we don't know about. The whole world of chameleon keeping is full of thrills and spills. There is a vivarium in my living room that is full of stories, full of possibilities. I'm left wondering how far I could take this whole chameleon thing. Could I get another one? Could I try for some chameleon babies? Could I raise those children by hand using the latest rearing techniques. The answer to all of those questions is probably no, but it is mad to think there are people for whom keeping these weird creatures is their entire world.

 Do what you love and do it well.

To Whom Shall We Go?

As I stared at the night sky in the year's first minutes, I felt a little troubled. The juxtapositioning of New Years melancholia and a few thoughts I'd had recently created an odd cocktail. I couldn't tell if my teeth were chatting through cold or anxiety, but the thoughts I had were important. They were the first step in addressing something that had creeping in recently, an overwhelming sense of greyness. The world had lost a sense of vibrancy.

A friend gave me a Qu'ran recently and I read a few chapters of it with great interest. As I journeyed through the various claims about the nature of God I became aware that this could potentially the beginning of an episode in which I converted to Islam. A strange thought but not an impossible one. I mean, all it would take would be for a tiny fragment to capture my imagination or a curiosity that snowballed. I think it seems foolish to say it couldn't happen to anyone. People with stronger faiths than I renounce their faith. Some continue in their faith yet are able to continuously commit the biggest sins their faith tradition prohibits; matrimonial unfaithfulness, large scale monetary fraud, and of course one particular institution is rife with paedophillia in its upper ranks. To suggest that I couldn't be diverted "off course" seems a bit, well, wrong.

On New Years Eve there was a knock at the door. Jehovah's Witnesses! I gleefully answered the door to them and, in the December cold, chatted for a solid twenty minutes. We discussed all sorts of topics, the misrepresentation of Islam, the Day to Come and the nature of faith. There are plenty of things I agree with, faith wise, with the Witnesses. Of course the things we disagree on are fairly foundational to our faiths. The ineffable mystery that Jesus could be God's son yet also God himself simultaneously seemed to be a bit of a stretch for Josephine and Benjamin. Some days this almost ridiculous and seemingly logically flawed belief presents itself to me as a mystery too, but in the same way I don't understand Astrophysics, I still hold on to my belief that the Bible states Jesus is God. The chat did throw a curveball at me which prompted me to do some digging into the claim that a particular world changing prophecy came true in 1914. I even took to contacting a friend of mine, a lovely lady I used to work with who is a Witness herself to find out more.

And so, the daydreams began again. After months of being worn down, by both their never-say-die attitude to ministry and my ability to get caught up in things, I finally join the Witnesses. Half of my family refuses to speak to me again after their efforts to dissuade me fall on deaf ears. I leave my church. Perhaps to those I leave behind, my new found faith looks like a moral failure. Some may even see it as a grand deception, as if my Christian faith was a massive act and I was never really "a true believer" to begin with. Some stick by me though, while not necessarily being thrilled with my choice, continuing to be friends and being there for me.

So how would I fare as a Witness? Would my social anxiety prevent me from knocking on doors and proclaiming the Good News. Would I be at peace with the niche I had found in the world and pull off life with the Watchtower with relative ease. Would I find the deep inner realm of organisation's underbelly  to be sinister and long for a way out, feeling trapped and manipulated? 

From the stories I've read the latter seems like the obvious choice. Yet, despite that, the idea of spending 18 months in, what some can only describe as a cult, while everyone in the real world worries to despair is an exciting thought. There's a lot in there. Imagine seeing the world with fresh eyes, all things exciting again. The things you previously held to be true turn out to be wrong. Its scary but the world becomes a much bigger place. The prescription changes and everything changes hue. That's radically exciting. Plus, I once saw a young woman knocking on doors once who was breathtakingly beautiful, perhaps I would get the opportunity to be be politely rejected by her!

However, my eventful and eventual redemption provides for a sweet tale too. A teary hug from my pastor as I'm welcomed back to the fold, a renewed clarity of thought now that things have changed once again, opening my first birthday presents after what would be known as "the wilderness years" Essentially, my daydreams are weird expressions of a desire to be in a narrative where I feel loved, be it by friends and family or new relationships made through entering a new circle. I also long to see the world with wide eyed wonder. That's what everyone wants right?

As I pondered these things while I watched the fireworks this incident from the life of Christ, recorded in the Gospel of John came to mind.

John 6:67-69

“You do not want to leave too, do you?” Jesus asked the Twelve.

Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and to know that you are the Holy One of God.”

To whom shall I go? There are times when I feel like I'm in a cult. Times when I wonder if my faith is the result of Christians taking advantage of me when I was vulnerable and going through a rough patch, But, honestly, what life is there beyond following Jesus? Living for Jesus already puts me in a narrative where I am loved way more than I could ever imagine, by God himself. Wow. Half the time I don't feel loved, and a lot of the time The Christian Life is not glamorous but despite that, I still hold on. Jesus is real and he is King.

As for seeing the world with wide eyed wonder, I'll admit the world has greyed substantially from when my faith was new and colourful. But beneath the grime of life, church rotas and bad perspectives on things, the world is still vibrant as ever, directed by an even more vibrant King.  There are still opportunities for learning and adventure. Plenty of Easter eggs hidden in this world that can only be appreciated if you and God find them together. I'm going to have to fight for this wonder. But I won't get there by doing more for me, but by depending on God. But I can't complain I'm not getting calls if I'm not listening for the phone. I'm going to have to pray and study the Bible diligently to find it, because once I begin to see God with a renewed sense of wonder, everything else will change too.