Why the Snake Charmer's Wife?

So moving into a house is like this. You just want to go through your boxes so badly. You want to clean and put things away. You want to find your books and clothes and toothpaste. You want to make lists. You want to clear the clutter from your incredible kitchen island and imagine it as a buffet line. You want to write thank you notes to all the people who stopped by with gifts and who put away your dishes, pots, and pans.

But Aidan requires you to assemble his pirate ship. And Amanda commands you to tune the guitar and teach her the D-chord. And you are mandated to oblige because your kids are lonely and disoriented. You realize that the children’s demands might be at least as important as deciding on a closet for the towels.

Then you cell phone your husband who is out in a man cave – we now have two garages -- and you wonder how the people who lived in this old farm house 80 years ago talked to each other. You try to explain the name you’ve chosen for the new blog. Bob preferred “The Speirs Family Blog.” Amanda liked “South of the Border.” Aidan had no opinion whatsoever.

But the thing is, once upon a time I really did meet a snake charmers wife. It was during the two weeks of infamy when I went to India.

Anyway, it seems that snake charmers are for real. The ones I met where not popular with the locals in the small village in Western India. They were seen as dishonest as they charmed tourists like gullible me into giving them money to see how their flute songs make reptiles rise. I’m sure the locals did not appreciate my fascination fanning the flames of their illegitimate trade. They were viewed as transient community pests. I suppose the charmers could translate to plain old homeless people, the kind you would avoid on the subway or wherever.

So there was one young snake charmer guy who gave it all up. No snake charming for him. His smiley wife got hooked up with a woman’s group, who hooked her up to some kind of a business and personal income. Now the newly-wed couple even have their own house. As she proudly showed our study tour group her wares, a travel companion whispered to me, “The Snake Charmer’s Wife!”

How can you forget that? They got a home, stability, and even kitchen supplies.

*

“But Mom,” Amanda protested, “Dad’s not a snake charmer.”

And I’m not a snake charmer’s wife, I replied, fully accepting that Amanda does not approve of my blog title choice.

But we’ve all been resurrected. We all got a second chance and we all took it. And the more you take second chances, the more there are. Little resurrections abound all around. If you miss the second, then three times’s a charm. Four. Five. Whatever it takes. The potential of newness is endless. New life rising from the oldness.

Besides, I just think it’s a really cool name. It reminds me of the good and the bad. With apologies to those of you who like reptiles, I don’t. Even though I lived with rattle snakes for four summers. To me the snake is a terrific image of that slippery side of us that we would rather not mention. It doesn’t ever go away. You acknowledge it. You are humbled by it. You charm it. You pray. You call upon the authority of Jesus Christ to be present in and around you. And if you bring up snakes at a party, well, I guarantee that you will hear some incredibly creepy stories because everyone has a slithery tale.

*

I hope you will come back to the charmer blog because I have so much to tell you, starting with the kids’ new schools. For Aidan, let’s just say it was love at first sight. For Amanda it was, “Mom, I feel so welcomed.” And St. John’s Lutheran Church in Des Moines -- glorious, simply glorious. It’s like, why did they choose us? They’re so extraordinary and we’re so . . . just us. And we have so many boxes to unpack.

With love, T

P.S. I just dug out my pictures of the snake charmers and the snake charmer’s wife. When I get stuff set up, I’ll scan them and post.