One of my favorite lines from Toy Story 2 is Woody’s exclamation at discovering all the toys and accessories connected to the Sheriff Woody brand. He is overjoyed and overwhelmed to discover that the world he thought he knew is so much larger. Though he loves his owner, Andy and his friends like Buzz Lightyear and Bo Peep, it’s as if Woody has finally found his family. He has a horse, Bullseye, and a new friend Jessie.
He has a whole world created just for him. And when he explores that world he finds a toy boot with a spring loaded snake. And here comes the line, delivered with perfect pausing by Tom Hanks: “Oh look, there’s a snake … in my boot.” It’s silly and I don’t know why I love the line so much. Again I think it’s how Tom Hanks says it. It’s cute.
I was thinking of that line today when I was walking the labyrinth at church. I’m used to having things jump out at me or run from me. I’ve startled my share of rabbits and lizards and birds and they’ve startled me right back.
But today was the first time I had seen a snake.
At first I thought it was a lizard, rising up out of the grass and slinking onto the six inch high fencing that marks the path. But then I noticed the head was too flat and too round for a lizard and then I noticed the body was way too long. The snake was only about a foot and a half long. It was mostly black with a gray mottled head.
It looked harmless, but snakes in Florida scare me, so I kept my distance and just watched it.
It really was a beautiful thing. At first I wanted there to be some message there. Here I am walking a path, trying to be there with God and there’s a snake preventing me from getting to the center of the labyrinth.
But the more I watched the snake, the more that connection faded. The snake was beautiful and lithe. It rose up, peering up over the fencing and then twisted its way through a Simpson Stopper, hiding for a second before moving on through the path.
Because of the snake’s size and because of the fencing, the snake was really forced to “walk” the labyrinth with me. It could only move in the same spiral pattern I was moving in. And I wondered if snakes could think, what this one would be thinking.
I’m sure the snake didn’t feel trapped, but I’m sure he probably wondered why he seemed only able to move in one direction. Perhaps that’s why he stopped and climbed the shrub, so he could see just where he was.
And then, of course, I started thinking about perspective. How are we similar to this poor snake? Are we trapped by repetitive behavior? Are we lost in a maze and don’t even realize it? What does it take to change our behavior when it seems like we’re in rut, when we keep making the same mistakes over and over?
It takes perspective. It takes focus. It takes centering ourselves to God and allowing Him to guide us.
In the end that was what both the snake and I were doing, though the snake couldn’t have known. We were both moving to the center of the labyrinth, searching for God.
