wild thing, you make my heart sing...

I was down at the stable, mucking out the stalls, putting out hay for the day when I saw the donkeys and Dixie run to the fence by the driveway, snorting and stamping. I looked up and saw a black bear walking past, ambling by, on his way somewhere through our back yard. The donkeys thought they could take him. Shirley was convinced she could thrash him and wanted a chance. He paid no attention to them or to me as I yelled for Michael to come look. Being that close to a really big wild thing was exciting and a little scary.
A woman in our community made the papers when her chicken flock was wiped out by a hungry bear. She was furious that the local authorities couldn’t do anything to protect her chickens and she was afraid the bear would harm her or her children. Of course she lives out in the country, perhaps in a subdivision, but still near mountains and woods. Wild things were there first and draw no distinctions concerning property lines or potential food sources.
Whether we live in the country or the city, we are surrounded by wild things. We live with the illusion we are in control of our environment until the power goes out. Then we are reduced to the basics... heat, light, food preparation are no longer easily managed. A gas shortage curtails our travel and we grumble about the inconvenience. Our bodies function as they should without our noticing until cancer or a heart attack get our attention. Our children are born and grow, living joy among us and then a diagnosis comes... autism, hearing impaired, ADHD, leukemia... and we are laid low in the certain knowledge that some things are beyond our control.
The scariest wild things are those that live within me. In the dark interior of my being lives a sometimes stingy soul who begrudges others their gifts. A sharp tongue gives vent to my anger and frustration without consideration. Forgiveness is not my strong suit. My rememberer is liable to get stuck on past hurts and grievances. Fear of failure that feeds my fear of worthlessness keeps me from venturing out into the wide world. My own personal little black cloud of depression that seems to provide a counterpoint to my Polly Anna personality can swamp me in times of stress. Fleeing to the wilderness seems to be my only option sometimes.
Wild things...wilderness where wild things live... can there be salvation in the wilderness? When David fled the wrath of King Saul, he found a stronghold in the wilderness, a place of refuge and safety in the midst of madness and murder. I am comforted by the possibility of a stronghold, a center of peace, in the middle of my own wilderness experiences. My stronghold would allow room for the wild things within me and without to rampage without doing too much harm. I am held in a safe space while the storms rage. And in that stronghold, without my usual props to keep the illusion of control in place, I can remember who holds the world in place, who holds my soul in safekeeping. Stripped of my strength, I fall to my knees calling for God to help me. My help cometh from the Lord who made heaven and earth and wilderness... it does come.
This Advent darkness is a reminder that the darkness will give way to light. Darkness does not last forever. The Light of the World will come again to illuminate my inner darkness, to show me a new way of living with my inner wild things and to warm my heart towards my kin people, wild and tame. And if I wait and work, perhaps I can catch a glimpse of the peace of wild things...

The Peace of Wild Things
by Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.