Spheres of Safety

With all of the restrictions that come with life in the midst of a pandemic, our family has invested in a number of new boardgames. While some, like Throw, Throw, Burrito have been met with mixed reviews (yes, it involves throwing burritos at each other), a new family favorite is now Wingspan. 

This game involves forming a flock of different kinds of birds by playing different bird cards you collect along the way. Each bird card features a different bird from North America and includes a gorgeous drawing of the bird along with some fun facts about the bird. Different characteristics on the card correlate to real characteristics of that bird—like what type of nest it has, how big its wingspan is, in what type of habitat it lives, and what type of food it eats. I like to think that we’re learning a lot about the birds even as we try to outplay the other people in our family. There’s even an app you can download that will play the bird’s song if you take a picture of the card.

We play it quite regularly. We’d probably play it more if I wasn’t the one that won every time. We like it so much we’ve recently added the European birds expansion and friends of ours gave us an upgraded wooden birdfeeder for the game (apparently there’s a whole niche of Wingspan accessories on Etsy.com!)

We’ve discovered that different members of our family have different strategies when it comes to this game. Some of us disregard any emotional attachment we might have to particular birds that we know or like and simply play to maximize our point total so that we might have the best chance of actually winning the game. This is the cutthroat approach. Others of us, however, prioritize the beauty of the game. These players would rather select the more colorful bird or majestic-looking bird over the bird that would best suit their strategy for winning. Their goal seems to be more to collect the birds that make them smile rather than the birds that give them the most points. I suppose the strategy you choose might depend on what your definition of winning might be.

I, as you might surmise, am almost always in the former camp. I try to avoid any emotional attachment to the birds and simply use them for the skills and characteristics that best fit into my overall strategy for that particular game.

There’s one particular bird, however, that I have a remarkable soft spot for. The Atlantic Puffin. Yes—the black and while bird with the bright orange beak and legs. I find them irresistible. And each time they come up in the game, I find myself throwing out my carefully crafted strategy just to be able to acquire that particular card and count the Atlantic Puffin as part of my flock.

Part of the reason I’m so attached to the Atlantic Puffin is because of a magical encounter I had with them while we were on sabbatical back in 2010 and were visiting the Iona Community on the Isle of Iona in Scotland. In the middle of our week there, they organized a day outing to the nearby Isle of Staffa. Because we had small children at the time and there was an age limit for the boat, Elizabeth graciously offered to stay behind and I went on the tour on my own.

The main draw was the interesting geological formation known as Fingal’s Cave—but a secondary attraction was the Atlantic Puffin colony that resided there through the summer. We only had a limited amount of time on the isle, and after spending a considerable amount of it fascinated by Fingal’s Cave, I realized I would need to choose between seeing the spectacular view to the northwest or trying to view the puffins which may or may not be there on the east side of the Isle. I chose taking a gamble on the puffins.

To get there, I needed to make my way up the narrow trail winding up the cliff rising from the ocean’s edge to the plateau on top of the island. We were told that the puffin nests were high up in the cliffs rising above the ocean and as you sat on top of the cliff edge, you actually weren’t very far at all from the puffin nests. The puffins themselves, however, spent almost their whole daytime swimming in the ocean far offshore because they were afraid of the seagulls that terrorized them along the cliffs. And sure enough, when I arrived, the puffins were floating together offshore in the ocean and could barely be made out as specks on the water.

Don’t lose hope if that happens, we had been told. Instead, sit very still. And if you’re lucky, the puffins will fly up and sit on the cliffs next to you. And sure enough, at first one, and then two, and before long 12-15 puffins had flown up and joined us on the cliff edge. And not far away from us either—sometimes just 2 or 3 feet from us. Seemingly the closer the better in some cases!

Apparently, seagulls terrorize puffins, driving them to spend their days floating far out on the water rather than in their nests. And the puffins know that the seagulls are afraid of human beings. And if humans are present, the seagulls will stay away. And if the seagulls stay away, the cliffs are again a safe space for the puffins. So as long as there are humans on the cliff edge, the puffins can come back to land and no longer need to be floating in the ocean for protection. It’s almost as if the puffins see a sphere of safety around each human being.

As this pandemic rages on, I’ve been a bit startled at how my attitude toward other people has shifted. When I see someone walking toward me on the sidewalk, I shift out into the street so as to avoid getting too close to the other person. If I’m at the grocery store or another place where there are other people and someone comes too close to me, I instinctively back away. When I drop the weekly groceries off at my parents’ house and my dad gets a bit too close as he starts to chat, I quickly find an excuse to move to the other side of the room. All of these are necessary precautions in this time of COVID and good steps to take, but I’m worried about how my perception of other people might be affected for the long term. The other day on our walk Elizabeth said, “I’m looking forward to the day when I can be excited to see someone else out for a walk again.”

In this age of COVID, it’s hard to envision human beings as spheres of safety. But perhaps it’s more necessary now than ever. Maybe we’re not yet able to view other people as spheres of safety in terms of sitting safely near others, but what if we ourselves did our best to be a sphere of safety for others? Not physically, but rather emotionally or spiritually?

As political differences divide us and both sides demonize the other, how do we take politics seriously and engage well, but without threatening the other? As the LGBTQ+ debate heats up in the Christian Reformed Church, how might we be a sphere of safety—both for those who disagree with us, but especially for those most affected by this debate—those of us who identify as LGBTQ+ ourselves? When our friends or neighbors are directly affected by the racial tensions and institutional racism that are all too real in the United States, how do the rest of us become a safe ally—someone who can come alongside and help provide at least a small hedge of support and protection? Someone who can help keep the seagulls at bay at least to some degree, help provide just a little bit of room to breathe or feel slightly safer? When the homeless in Grand Rapids are forced out of Heartside Park, even as the weather turns colder, and costs of housing continue to skyrocket in Grand Rapids, what might it look like for me—someone who has a house—to be a sphere of safety for those who don’t? And when there are record numbers of refugees in the world, those who have lost everything—how do I use the blessings I enjoy to be a blessing to those in desperate need?

I don’t have the money of Jeff Bezos, the technological resources of Elon Musk, or the political influence of Donald Trump or Joe Biden. But I have plenty of gifts and resources. And I also have a calling to be a force of redemption in this world. And I have a God who can do immeasurably more than I can ask or imagine.

As that God calls Abraham to leave his homeland in Genesis 12, God repeatedly tells Abraham about how great God is going to make Abraham and his descendants—but each time, he follows that up by indicating how that greatness will be a blessing to all nations. You will be blessed to be a blessing, God says. It’s a theme throughout Scripture—from those who have been given much, much will be expected. Those who have resources are to use them to bless those who are without. Those who have power are to use it not for their own good, but in service to others. Those who can scare away the seagulls are to make a safe place for the puffins.

I smile every time the Atlantic Puffin card comes up in the game Wingspan. I remember that magical afternoon perched on the cliffs of the Isle of Staffa. And I remember the call to be a sphere of safety in a world desperate for peace.