Many turtles hibernate in winter, underwater and burrowed in mud? I just learned that today. Get out! We had an adorable tiny turtle or two when I was about five years old. And I took a number of biology and animal sciences classes in college, but I do not recall a lecture on turtles and their wintertime habits. Boy, was I missing something! Let me fill you in, because a turtle’s life amazingly relates to you and me.
Painted turtles and snapping turtles are two types of reptiles that rely on their environment for their body temperature (exothermic—if you remember that term from science class). During winter, in bodies of water up to about seven feet deep, these turtles nestle down in the bottom mud and significantly slow their metabolism. Even having lungs, they switch over to oxygen uptake from the chilly water that moves across their body surfaces rich with blood vessels.
Stop Breathing
In a sense, hibernating turtles stop breathing, except they allow another body part to help with oxygen support. Their bums. Winterized turtles become butt breathers, but that’s a science lesson for another time, (note to young boys reading this: after you stop laughing until you feel like you may wet your pants, go look up this article online about turtle tushes.)
Now back to my story here that relates to you and me. Painted turtles in particular are masters at submerging in cold water temperatures for more than 100 days. Buried in muck, these turtles pull calcium from their bones and shells and begin to lose their overall shape. And they wait. And wait. For months.
But when spring arrives, the lethargic turtles head for the water’s surface and sunshine. The turtles breathe with their lungs again, and regular nourishment and sunshine replenishes their slimmed-down shape.
How Are We Like These Turtles?
When we wait for our circumstances to change, or a new season to arrive, or our own winter burrowing in to end, we are like hibernating turtles. We may feel stuck in a mud hole and moving at a turtle’s pace . . . or seeing no movement toward the positive at all. This slowed lifestyle of waiting is essentially what I call bending. We, like hibernating turtles, adjust to our environment and we adapt, we flex, and we reshape our expectations and reinvent ourselves in a way. We learn to bend.
While we may need to hunker down in the mud for awhile, when the time is right, we will emerge from the mire or as the psalmist describes a “slimy pit” (Psalm 40:2) to see more sunny days ahead.
In my book, Two Days Longer, about how to discover more of who God really is through our everyday waiting, I write about Jawad in Iraq. Jawad is a Shiite Muslim who fears he will be murdered by the Saddam Hussein’s secret police. So Jawad hides inside a three-foot-wide wall chamber for twenty-two years. Jawad chooses solitary confinement in his own home. In my summary of Jawad’s emerging from his homemade crypt, I explain, “Horrific fear and desperation bulldozed Jawad. The choice was death or waiting. Jawad chose to wait. Most of us will never face such an extreme period of waiting alone. Yet when we’re waiting on the God of the universe, even a few seconds can seem like an eternity.”
What We Have in Common
Jawad and painted turtles have something in common with you and me. We all encounter times of wintertime waiting in which we long to see sunshine again. At times we all must wait and bend and bend and wait until it’s time to push out of the muck and the confining walls of our lives and breathe fresh air again.
You may be in your own wintertime wait right now, but sit tight, spring will come. You WILL breathe easy again.
“I waited and waited and waited some more, patiently, knowing God would come through for me. Then, at last, he bent down and listened
to my cry. He stooped down to lift me out of danger from the desolate pit I was in, out of the muddy mess I had fallen into. Now he’s
lifted me up into a firm, secure place and steadied me while I walk along his ascending path. A new song for a new day rises up in me
every time I think about how he breaks through for me!” —Psalm 40:1-3, The Passion Translation
Wow! I never knew! Thanks for sharing Beth. What a great reminder that He will sustain us!
Don’t you just love these remarkable lessons God shows us in Creation? Thanks, Kristi, for sharing your note on how all this is a reminder of God sustaining us. So true, my friend, even when we feel pretty deep in the muck.
You do realize you do realize your obituary now includes the line “Beth is known for her well regarded blog on turtle butt breathing and waiting”.
Haaaaaa! Well, boy howdy, Candy, you sure are a forward-thinker. If you’re alive when I’m gone, do be sure someone leaves room for this compelling tidbit. Or, you can add this to your wonderful eulogy message for me. 🙂
I know about hibernating turtles since I give them bread during the spring and summer months. They hibernate in the muck of the golf course ponds all winter. That is my turtle feeding vacation. But come spring they are eager to see me and gather at the pond’s shore to get what I throw in. I have been feeding the same turtles for years and have named a few. Thanks for sharing.
Aileen, this is fabulous! THANK YOU for feeding and naming those turtles. How kind of you. Love it! I think it gets too cold here in winter for turtles, so we really don’t have them around. Golf course ponds in Florida are perfect for them. Soon your turtle buddies will be coming back to life.
Okay, that was awesome. Thanks, my friend, for turtles and life-connecting lessons!
You’re soooo welcome, my friend. How are you? LOVE to get together with you. Update me when you can. Hugs!
Michelle and the girls have had a turtle for more than five years. Michelle forced Jeremy to bring the turtle in the cab of the moving truck from North Carolina to Colorado ( much to his disgust). The turtle’s name is Mae. Mae even has a special “condo” outside for the summer time!!! Mae has a special indoor tub for accommodations at other times. She really is very social and comes to you when you have a little tomato to give her!! Thanks so much for the article, Beth!
Sandra, thank you for sharing this. Mae sounds like such a beloved member of the family (I know Jeremy does care for her too 🙂 ) and she brings joy. I’d love to meet Mae some day. I promise to bring a little tomato or two.
Again Beth, you bring to our hearts an incredible story to show us how God works in our lives. And always with grace and truth. I love reading your blogs. Keep inspiring us with your words of wisdom!
Awww… thank you so much, Daria. I am truly honored that you love the blogs. Bless you for your encouragement!!
What an inspirational blog (as I sit here reading it in the dead of CO winter anticipating Spring in a BIG way)! I miss the green and leaves, and the sun’s warmth on my face.
It made me wonder where the turtles are in winter in the man-made pond at our local Nancy Lewis Park where we walk the dogs sometimes. I look forward to those walks and chats again, dear Beth. And we just have to wait patiently and know Spring will return again.
Awww…Edie, we will have many more walks at Nancy Lewis Park. You know, February gets in the 70s around here. Great question about our local turtles that I forgot all about. Many the parks department can fill us in.
What a GREAT article! Oh, who is not familiar with these waiting seasons? And I loved the part about the hibernating turtles drawing on their inner resources until they become depleted and even begin to lose their shape! Waistlines notwithstanding, I really get the part about losing shape during times of waiting. Emotional shape. Spiritual shape. Even the shape of my identity. Things start to blur. The line between who I am and my painful circumstances begin to blur. Anyway, we’ve all been there yes? Great piece, Beth. Plus, this line will be forever burned into my brain: Winterized turtles become butt breathers. 🙂
Karen, bless you for your encouraging words. I love your insights on us losing shape emotionally, spiritually and even our identity shape during our times of waiting. Let’s hope that winterizing turtle line eventually fades from your memory. I have lots more one-liners to replace that one. BUTT, of course, I do! 🙂