Fears Unrealized

Growing up, I detested spiders. Still do, if truth be told. Although, it's nowhere near what it was before. I imagine the little creeping things, with their many eyes, furry body, and long legs that I think have to click when they walk, only our hearing isn't good enough to hear it. Even imagining them causes the hair to rise on my arms. I can't help but shudder.

It's kind of amusing that I read Charlotte's Web recently. E.B. White builds a lovable, engaging character in the spider, but it doesn't make me like them any more. And I didn't as a kid, either. The book was a nostalgic jump back into the past, reading in bed, completely immersed in the world E.B. created. I don't seem to get as immersed now, as I did then. Maybe it was my childlike wonder, and the dreams I had that I just knew I would realize as an adult. If only.

However, it isn't to say I hated all those kinds of small creatures. I didn't mind grasshoppers - I even turned one into a pet with my little brother as a kid. It lasted almost a whole day, until our friend stepped on Hoppy. We cried that day like we lost a beloved piece of ourselves. We didn't see how the grasshopper wouldn't have been happy in an aquarium. As horrible as it was, maybe it was better for him to die instead of having selfish kids keep him locked up away from his natural habitat. I also didn't mind earthworms, or even those little green bugs.

I'm not alone in not liking spiders, though. If you ask someone their fear, a lot will say spiders. They creep a lot of people, but so do snakes, and snakes are something I never minded.

I remember in 3rd grade, our class pet just happened to be a snake. It wasn't that big, maybe a foot long. When my teacher pulled it out to show us, I was one of the first to ask to hold it. The body was cold and wet, almost slimy without the residue slime leaves behind. It was like holding a tire tube with strong muscles moving beneath the skin, powerful muscle I was aware could tighten at the least provocation. Yet I wasn't afraid.

After that first time holding it, that snake developed a bond to me. The teacher was very astute and noticed the snake's deference for me. One day, he tested a theory he had percolating for a while. He had us all switch to different seats every day. His excuse was that it was so we could learn that things in life change, but it was really to test the snake, and me.

He let the snake out while we did our work quietly at our desks. The snake slithered down the aisle. At each row, he raised his head off the ground and studied the kids next to him. When he didn't find what he was looking for, he would move on. When he finally found me, he would slither up my leg and curl up in my lap. While there, I would pet him, like I would do our dog or our cat. To me, he was just another animal in need of affection.

The teacher moved me several time in the same way and the snake found me each time. And each time, he would curl up in my lap and go to sleep.

When my mom arrived to retrieve me one day for a doctor appointment, she was horrified to see a snake curled up in her 8-year-old child's lap. She raised an eyebrow at Mr. Stan and he pulled her to the side to explain his theory.

It's not a trait of snakes to exhibit that kind of behavior. Usually, they are aloof, uncaring. I'm unsure of the reason it was drawn to me, but it made me feel special, noticed, and wanted. That's how it felt when I returned to God. I didn't know in that small Florida classroom, I would have an experience not many do. And it all started with a curious teacher and a connection to an animal I never thought possible.