Portions For Foxes
Of all my tattoos, this one gets the most attention. Everyone that meets me for the first time, and sees it, tends to ask the same question: “What does it say?”
Now something most people dont realize, is that it is actually kinda rude to ask about a person’s tattoos. Tattoos are a very personal thing, and more often than not (except for the tribal arm bands and other trendy tattoos) are reminders of points in time, or activities, or people that the person wants to remember, but not necessarily share.
Sometimes, when I am asked, I just say that its a reminder to not be taken advantage of. Other times, I make jokes.
“It says, stop asking me about my tattoos.” Is a common response. “Regardless of what you might think, Jewish men do have 13 inch penises.” If I am being a bit cheeky.
But, if you catch me at the right time, I will tell you the real translation:
“They shall be hurled to the might of the sword, and be portions for foxes.”
Its not a reference to the Rilo Kiley song, Portions for Foxes although its a great song.
Rather it comes from Psalm 63.
And it reminds me to not be taken advantage of.
You see, there is a character trait I have that I love. I am loyal. I am helpful. I enjoy doing things for others. I enjoy being the strength that others cant muster in themselves.
The downside to that is, on occasion, I am seen as the safe choice. As the guy that will always be there.
Which sometimes leads to being the guy that watches women that I really care for date other people, but come to me when they need support. Or watch things being asked for and expected from me grow, every so slowly over time, to pass the stage of the appropriate things to ask a friend.
For a long time, I never said no. I never walked away. I bit my tongue.
“There’s blood in my mouth ’cause I’ve been biting my tongue all week
I keep on talkin’ trash but I never say anything” - Rilo Kiley
And it cost me tens of thousands of dollars.
It cost me time and hurt feelings.
It cost me part of that strength I was so quick to give.
So the day those Hebrew words were tattoo’d on my arm, I decided to no longer be that guy. That I would control the depth of the leaning I would allow others to do. That I would notice when the line was crossed, and unless I could readjust expectations, I would take that failing friendship and “throw it against the might of the sword,” with regret, and leave it as “portions for foxes,” sadly.
But leave it I would.
My greatest sadness is that people dont think they deserve kindness. People consider kindness provides without expectation of reciprocation unbelievable. People assume ulterior motives, and when there are none, they preempt the “other shoe falling,” even when there is no other shoe, and wrongly destroy friendships.
There is nothing in this world easier to give or receive than kindness. But nothing is viewed with more disbelief than kindness.
Sad isnt it?
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