Boundary
This is Harry- short for Harriet, since we found out “he” was actually a she when Harry lived past a couple of years. Male tarantulas don’t live long. She is turning 20 this year (likely a bit older). I got her as a gift on my 10th birthday, and she has been with me ever since.
As a side note, if you’re looking for a pet for your kid, you can’t go wrong with a tarantula. They are incredibly low-maintenance (my houseplants are harder to take care of), don’t smell, are fun to watch, and make for a good ice-breaker. Just be prepared for the possibility of a very long-term relationship.
This week, I’ve been thinking about boundaries.
I was rocking Alice (nap-trapped) in the living room, staring at Harry in her tank, and started reflecting on how we are both confined to a space, and how that space is shaping us. Is it helping, or harming?
Tarantulas prefer small enclosures. It helps them feel secure and makes it easier for them to find food, since they have poor eyesight. What looks like a kind of prison from the outside is actually a boundary that serves them, keeping them safe and settled. Even in the wild, they wouldn’t travel far from their den.
This isn’t true for every creature in the same way, but every living thing has a set of boundaries it is meant to live within- including us. When those boundaries are ignored or removed, things don’t expand into freedom, they unravel.
Our culture tends to treat boundaries as something to push against- something restrictive, something to outgrow. We’re told that freedom is doing whatever we want, whenever we want. But that kind of freedom is shallow.
Being lost in a forest is a kind of freedom, you can go anywhere. But it doesn’t actually get you anywhere. A map, on the other hand, sets boundaries. It tells you where not to go, and because of that, it gives you something better: direction.
I believe God made that map. And we recognize it by its fruit.
I sometimes feel confined in this season of staying home with my kids, especially without the kind of support mothers once had. It can feel repetitive and closed in. But I’m trying to see it differently.
Not as a limitation, but as a boundary shaping something good. And within it, there is still room to grow and adjust what isn’t working. To build a life that supports not only me, but the people I’ve been given to care for.
