Joan and I (and Joan’s daughter Jessica) are in Puerto Rico for a few days, enjoying our first-ever trip to this island.
What an amazing place! If you have never been, I highly recommend it.
For Jessica, this is a vacation. That’s because Jessica is a working person.
Joan and I, however, are only allowed to call it a “trip” because we are both retired. That means we are legally prohibited from using the word “vacation.”
We are staying in a little seaside spot near Punta Santiago on the east coast of the island. It is far outside the city of San Juan and therefore very peaceful and serene.
The remoteness of our location has allowed us to meet the little tree frog that is known as “the symbol of Puerto Rico,” the coqui. The coqui has a distinctive and piercing call that begins right around sunset and continues until the wee hours of the morning.
Wikipedia tells me that the coqui’s call is made up of two parts… the “co” which is designed to scare away other male frogs, and the “qui” (pron. “key”), which is his come-on to any female frogs in the area.
I am glad I looked this up because when I first heard the call of the coqui, it struck me as the call of the most self-centered little amphibian in the world.
The call I thought I heard him making was, “For me?” repeated over and over and over again.
It made me think about how often I have employed that mating call in my own life.
I had to stop and ask myself if I am only able to appreciate the joy and wonder of life when it is especially designed “for me.”
Am I only able to weep and feel the true depth of sorrow when a tragedy is uniquely “for me”?
I sincerely hope that is not the case. Because if it were, I would truly be a person worth pitying.
When Jesus commanded us to, “love your neighbor as yourself,” (Matthew 22:39), I believe he was commanding us to do away with the notion that there is a distinction between the two.
When I see no distinction between my neighbor’s well being and my own well being, self-care and compassion merge to become the same thing.
Your joy is indeed “for me.” Your sorrow is also, “for me.”
So maybe instead of being annoyed as the little coqui sings me to sleep tonight, I will instead choose to be grateful for his sermon on authentic human compassion.
But maybe he could try preaching it a little more quietly though, eh?
Russellings of the Spirit 