There’s a yellow elephant in the room, and despite my best efforts to the contrary, I see it in all of its current incarnation.  The room was once filled with such beautifully necessary things. Laughter, solace, counsel, truth, and other very precious, precious things lit every corner, every space in the room, that is, of course, until the elephant entered the room.  The room, it turns out, has always been rather small, but it is shrinking more and more each day that the elephant is permitted to stay.

Elephants are the largest land mammals in the world. They are creatures of habit, who wear paths in the ground as they travel the same routes back and forth in the jungle for water. They love rolling in the mud for relief. Elephants are usually the most popular attractions at the circus and the zoo. Still, entertaining an elephant in a room is more than most would ever volunteer for, but we do all the time.  We allow these big creatures to take up residence in our personal and precious spaces, and we eventually become visitors in our own rooms, all the while wondering, how did this happen? How did I let a big yellow elephant get in?

I never really enjoyed the elephants at the zoo. To be fair, I never enjoyed the idea of the zoo. I loved getting a day off school to visit the zoo, but it always seemed strange to me that in the middle of the city, all these animals that we were taught could only be found in Africa or Asia, somehow were caged for our amusement in the nation’s capitol. What I learned about animals I learned in books or from documentaries, not the zoo, so I personally don’t see the educational value of the caged animal, but maybe some folks do learn about animals that way.  I’ll always believe that animals should be studied in their natural habitat, instead of forcing them to perform in cheap imitations of their natural habitat with the cheers and jeers of little children and teenagers and parents who just want to rest their feet. But I digress…

It’s so easy to think that the cute, lovable elephant will somehow fit in with the decor of our rooms, that we will somehow manage to maneuver, however delicately, around the room so as not to disturb the elephant or disrupt the room, but elephants aren’t made to be still — unless, of course, they’re sleeping; and they aren’t meant to be caged, unless they’re in the a major U.S. city. Elephants often roam for hours on end at a slow, methodical pace, covering more ground and destroying the terrain below their massive feet. And the destruction occurs by chance, you know, not deliberately, because of the weight atop their huge legs. Each time we let the elephants into the room, we invite confusion and destruction, and those are the reasons, by the way, that we allow the elephants in the rooms in the first place. Whether we want to admit it or not, there are certainly times when a part of all of us feels at least a little unsettled when confusion and/or possible destruction are missing.

I’ve always been good at noticing the elephant in the room, but I haven’t a clue how to remove it. Well, that’s not entirely true. Actually, I find that in most cases, I’m one of the few people who can see the elephant in the room, so when I acknowledge its existence, well, folks seem to think it’s just me.  Too often, the potential destruction of the elephant is underestimated, and sometimes, just sometimes, I get tired of dealing with the elephant, so I leave the elephant where it is, and I find another room… one without an elephant. I cannot coexist with the elephant for a host of reasons, not the least of which is my utter lack of desire.

At any rate, I liked the rooms better when the elephants were elsewhere. There’s a part of me that believes that removing the elephants from rooms, any rooms, is a necessary evil to build personal strength and to set personal and social boundaries. When I started writing this blog (days ago… harumph!!), I had one specific elephant in mind. But as the words have poured out of me, I’ve come to realize that there are several rooms with these annoying elephants that need tending to, and the time is rapidly approaching when I have to determine whether I’ll learn to live with the elephant, banish the elephant, or relinquish my claim to the room. It’s all a matter of worth, really. What are the rooms worth to me? What value do they currently (holla!) have in my life? Can I live with the elephant(s)?

I had the unexpected treat today to spend some quality time with a neighbor of mine. We talked about the elephants, and she gave the best advice… to no one’s surprise, I’m sure. She said to give it to God and remove my claws (my nails really have grown too long). She said to sit back and listen for His direction, so that’s where I stand — me, God, and the yellow elephants.

Pass the peanuts!