...Especially when it comes to sleeping dogs such as relationships laid to rest, sins you've turned your back on already, and things you promised yourself (or, more crucially, God and another person) you'd never think, say or do.
Learned this lesson the hard way just a while ago.
An erstwhile suitor who quietly faded into the background over two decades ago somehow faded into my Facebook list of Friend Requests. Quickly assessing the former situation (brief, seemingly harmless, nipped-in-the-bud attempt at teenage courtship), I reckoned it would be fine to click Confirm. This isn't so-and-so with whom I got really serious; nor such-and-such whom I considered my first real love; thus went my internal ethics committee and auditors.
However, once I actually responded to the perfunctory hellos on FB chat...the thread took on an increasingly tangled direction. As in, tangled around his thinly-veiled attempts to awaken the sleeping dog, and resurrect a relationship that never was.
I cut the connection right there and rued the day I dared use the ten-foot pole.
Just last week the same thing happened: a phrase I vowed never to use with someone very close to me, just seemed to slip over my tongue and slide right out of my mouth. I hurt someone terribly, and though things between us have taken a turn for the better, still......That weight, that sigh keeps cropping up every now and then.
For some things, even 20-foot poles aren't up to the job. When you touch something with a pole, there's just no way of telling beforehand if the thing cannot manage to grab hold of the pole, shake it loose from your grasp, and eradicate the safe distance between you.
If you're even thinking of touching that sleeping dog...DON'T. It doesn't respect poles, no matter what their length. Sleeping dogs are meant to lie.
Drop the pole, turn your back, and keep walking towards the future God has for you. That's the safest way to go.
So what am I thankful for?
Uhm, this time, I guess, it would have to be that lovely little link called Log Out.
