Hiss and Miss

??Snakes In My Shamba!

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I’ve always been fascinated by snakes and eagles. As much as I love a good drop from the sky every now and then, I’m not a fan of the dirt, it’s just not my scene. But this week? Oh, a snake really tried me. Let’s just say watching it tumble helplessly after a swift aerial drop was chef’s kiss the most thrilling moment. Honestly, I had to grab a bowl of popcorn to fully enjoy the show. After all, it’s not every day you get to see a snake fly, and fall spectacularly. ??

Snakes are like that one nosy auntie at every family gathering, always sniffing around your business just to stir the pot. The harder you work, the more they slither into your life, as if your hustle is a personal insult to their preference for idleness. But here’s the thing about snakes: they’re not random. They’re strategic. They don’t bother with your weaknesses; they aim straight for your strongest point. If you’re an eagle, they’re coming for your eggs, your dreams, your goals, your legacy. Imagine that: the lowest creature on the ground plotting to disrupt the highest in the sky. It’s like village gossip trying to take down the family star. Funny, yes. But deeply frustrating.??

Now, let’s be honest. If you’ve ever lost a battle to a snake, it’s not because it’s some ancient sage full of wisdom. Nope. It’s because you let it drag you into its world, into the dust, the rocks, the shamba where it thrives. Fighting a snake on its turf is like trying to outmaneuver a boda-boda rider in Kampala traffic. They’re in their element, and you’re just setting yourself up for defeat.

But eagles? Eagles operate differently. They don’t waste time arguing with snakes or hosting a village meeting to discuss the snake’s terrible manners. They’re not out here flapping their wings in frustration, drafting passive-aggressive notes, or forming WhatsApp groups like “Stop the Snakes 2025.” Eagles don’t do drama, they do results.

When a snake threatens their eggs, the eagle doesn’t sit around debating its next move. It doesn’t think, Should I call for backup? Maybe I’ll give the snake a motivational speech about staying in its lane. Nope. Eagles are efficient. They swoop down with the precision of a boda rider dodging potholes, snatch the snake like it’s overdue rent, and head straight for the skies. And not just any skies, the kind where the air is thin, the wind is unkind, and the snake starts questioning every life choice that led to this moment.??

At the eagle’s peak altitude, the snake isn’t just uncomfortable, it’s having a full-blown existential crisis. And then comes the moment of brilliance. The eagle doesn’t argue, fight, or grandstand. It simply lets go. No dramatic speeches, no power struggles, just a simple release. The snake? It’s left tumbling earthward, flipping, and twisting like a bad wig in a windstorm. Meanwhile, the eagle? It doesn’t even look back. It’s already soaring higher, probably thinking, That’s why I’m the king of the skies.??

Eagles don’t just handle problems; they give them an experience to remember. Snakes might own the ground, but eagles? They own the air. And they handle their business with a level of finesse that deserves to be studied.

Shake Off That Snake: This principle isn’t just for eagles, it’s for anyone who’s ever had to deal with life’s sneaky snakes. Take Paul, for instance. In Acts 28:3-4, fresh off surviving a shipwreck (because apparently, Paul’s life was one long action movie), he’s gathering sticks for a fire when, bam! out of the heat slithers a viper. And not just any harmless garden snake. The Greek word echidna makes it clear: this was a highly venomous, no-nonsense kind of snake. When it latched onto Paul’s hand, it wasn’t messing around. The Greek word kathapto tells us this snake didn’t just nibble; it bit deep, sinking its fangs into Paul’s hand and injecting venom like it had something to prove.

Naturally, those around him lost their minds. “This man must be cursed! He escaped the sea, but karma clearly wasn’t done with him yet!” Cue dramatic whispers and wide-eyed stares as they waited for Paul to drop dead. But Paul? Paul didn’t even flinch. He didn’t scream, faint, or beg someone to fetch an emergency herbal remedy. Nope. He just casually shook the snake off into the fire like it was an annoying mosquito and went right back to business, as if getting bitten by a venomous snake was just another Tuesday.

And here’s the kicker: the venom didn’t affect him. Not one bit. This wasn’t just a survival story; it was a masterclass in resilience and perspective. Paul understood something powerful: the snake, whether literal or metaphorical, only had as much power as he gave it. By shaking it off and refusing to get caught up in the drama, he stripped the snake of its ability to harm him.

???Life is going to throw its fair share of vipers your way. Some will bite, inject their negativity, and cling on for dear life. But like Paul, you have the choice to shake them off, toss them into the fire, and keep moving. Because honestly, who has time to let a snake ruin their day? You’ve got dreams to chase, situations to ignore, and snacks to eat, there’s simply no room in the schedule for snake drama.

???In life, we all face our vipers, those challenges, doubts, and distractions that try to knock us off course. They may bite, inject fear, and hold tight, but like Paul, you don’t have to let their venom spread. Shake them off. Toss them into the fire, rise above, and move forward.

So, the next time life throws a snake your way, don’t panic. Hold your ground. Your strength lies in your calm resolve. Rise higher. And when you’ve climbed to your heights, let it go. Watch it fall, powerless and defeated, back to the ground where it belongs.

????♀?As you soar above, take a moment to reflect on the journey. Consider the strength it took to rise, the clarity you’ve gained, and the beauty of knowing that the sky, wide, endless, and full of promise, was always yours to claim. ??

Shake, Soar, and Let Them Fall!