inexorablyloved

I have a fish. Well, my roommate and I have a fish, but I’m the one who feeds him, changes his water, and talks to him. He is also on my side of the room. Thus, he is more my fish than hers. His name is Calvin, after John Calvin (Reason being, he chose us, we didn’t choose him).

The story of how Calvin came to be in our dorm room is fun. We decided to buy a fish, and so we went to the pet section of Wal-Mart. And they had this shelf crammed full of beta fishes. My roommate wanted to get this one big beta who matched our room decor. He was pretty, sure, but my eye was immediately drawn to a little beta in the corner. He was a lot smaller than all the other fish, but he was happy. He swam around in his little cup like he was frantic to get out. It was like those puppies you read about that just jump up and down in front of all the other puppies. My heart just WANTED him.

And so we got him. Even as I’m writing this he’s doing something spastic. I think he’s hitting the rocks at the bottom of his bowl and then bouncing up to the top. It’s a curious game he plays. But it is certainly entertaining.

I think Calvin reminds me of me. There are probably plenty of people who don’t want a spastic fish who hits the sides of his glass bowl. They want a normal fish. I bet also that Calvin probably wished at times when he was at Wal-Mart that he was as big as the other betas, and he was nice and docile. But he just HAD to express how excited he was.

Sometimes, in moments of doubt and worry, I wonder why I’m so exceedingly crazy. I ENJOY being so expressive and loud and altogether eccentric. But it is hard, because there are times when I think that I’ll never find myself a man with such an out-there personality. I’m obnoxious and brash and crazy even on my best days. I’m that person who talks too much too loudly with too much drama. And there are times when I just wish I was a gentle and quiet spirit–who didn’t talk with my hands or have to share my opinion on everything. I wish I didn’t talk even if no one was listening. I wish I didn’t get so excited about stupid things. I wish I was a docile fish–or in my language, a gentle and quiet spirit.

But then I look at Calvin. He really is a reminder of grace for me. He was probably pretty wild seeming to those who undoubtedly passed him by. There were prettier fish, more controlled fish, better behaved fish. But Calvin is just perfect for me. I’d be sad if he didn’t freak out when I fed him.

Somewhere out there is someone who would be bored with anything less than a little bit of crazy. And someday, just like Calvin and I, we will meet. And then, as if by fate (but really by the sovereign hand of God) we will get together. And another love will be made.

I can’t wait.