A few weeks ago I drove to spiritual direction and met an alligator waiting for me under the stairs.
As I exited our giant van, my director waved from her lofty porch, and her husband stood in the carport below, shovel in hand.
“You’re just in time for the excitement!” she exclaimed.
“We thought we probably had alligators, but now we know for sure…” her husband remarked, as if the alligator nestled under the bottom of the stairs was some sort of stray kitten.
I snapped a photo for my boys — they would be so jealous — then inquired how he planned to get rid of it. He responded that he’d been trying to poke it with the shovel, but it was a little grumpy. Next he’d try the hose to flush him out, and hopefully the alligator would slink back into the woods, but if that failed he might have to call “the alligator guys”. He directed me to go around behind him, and I safely walked up the stairs, practically stepping on the alligator’s head.
At my appointment, sitting a full flight of stairs ab…