For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime. Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.
Psalm 30:5

Thursday, November 27, 2014

A Teeny Tiny Taster

Empathy. It can be so very elusive.

Sometimes, wanting something so badly has a way of being a huge hindrance to empathizing with someone who has that something.

At some point along this continuum of longing to have a child, I found myself seemingly losing the ability to empathize. It was hard to empathize with the privileges accorded to mummies everywhere, because what about us who are not mummies? It was hard to empathize with world-revolving-around-my-kids kind of worldview, because I felt left out of many conversations and felt comparably empty. It was hard to empathize when any mummy had anything to complain about regarding parenting, because isn't it the greatest privilege in the world in itself, which makes all things bearable? At the worst moment, it was just hard to empathize because that seemingly means admitting to not having something I know deep down can be one of the greatest joys. Since not having brings pain, there is that reflex action of doing all I can, including not empathizing, in order to avoid that pain.

I'm so thankful that along came someone, to change all this.

Enter Tikki the dog, who we had the privilege of dog-sitting for a very short two weeks.

With Tikki, I got a teeny tiny taster of what being a parent may, in some very remote way, feel like.

  • It may feel like how it felt when we set the alarm clock a half hour earlier than usual just to walk Tikki and prepare his breakfast 
  • It may feel like how it felt when we always made sure Tikki ate his meals before ours (and finished them).
  • It may feel like how it felt when we had to check Tikki's poop every time to make sure he's healthy.
  • It may feel like how it felt when I made it a point to vary his meals, and avoid giving him the same warm salad for consecutive meals.
  • It may feel like how it felt when I got creative making Tikki all sorts of warm salads revolving mainly around Kibbles and Rice. 
  • It may feel like how it felt when we planned our weekend activities around Tikki. 
  • It may feel like how it felt when I snapped photo after photo away at every opportunity.
  • It may feel like how it felt when the floor is covered with a layer of Golden Retriever Fur, and when I step into saliva puddles every four steps.
  • It may feel like how it felt when every other night I would get woken up by some noise Tikki was making.
  • It may feel like how it felt when I had to say no to Friday night shopping on Orchard Road because Tikki would need his walk and dinner. 
  • It may feel like how it felt to have Tikki always so needful of our company, and wanting to stay close all the time. 
  • It may feel like how it felt when I had to keep a straight face and strict tone when disciplining Tikki, like when he tries to lick out-of-bounds-other-dogs'-poo-spots during his walks.
  • It may feel like how it felt like when all day at work I knew someone was waiting longingly for me to return from work
  • It may feel like how it felt like when our return home was greeted without fail with excited tail-wagging, prancing around, and big smiles all around.
Tikki may be leaving us tomorrow, but I don't want this aftertaste to ever leave my senses.