In my garden, desert toads burrow into the ground and hibernate during the dry spells, only to emerge when the monsoon rains soak the soil in July and August. The garden of my soul has some hidden toads as well. I consider myself to be a happy person. I am at peace with the major mistakes of my life and grateful for my many blessings. Once in a while, though, a hidden toad emerges from the depths of my soul — the hurt from an old wound or an old irritation that should have been forgotten. I am always surprised when these hidden toads come to light. Like the desert toad, my hidden toads can exude toxins. They always bring a period of suffering, but the Lord eventually heals me, and then I find myself freer than I was before. That’s a good thing. Yet, I can’t help but wonder. Are there still more toads hidden in my garden?
2 thoughts on “Hidden Toads”
In religious art, and you may already know this, a toad is symbolic of evil or the devil. This sort of fits with your observations. I’ve run into toads myself.
Interesting. I wasn’t thinking of toads as a symbol of evil. I was thinking of them more as a metaphor for the brokenness that lies hidden in each of us. However, once these ‘toads’ come to light, they can indeed spark an all-out war between good and evil. We can be tempted to wallow in self-pity, resentment, and anger, or we can pray for the grace to release them and thereby become more whole (holy). Becoming more holy takes time, so the battle can last a while. Catholic theology teaches that creation is inherently good, so I suppose that goodness includes the little desert amphibians, unlovable as they sometimes seem. My former neighbor had a pond in her backyard, so her toads were very active at times. When they were mating, their screeching was earsplitting. No sleep on those nights.