Weird animals adorn my house. I love them. In the beginning my family thought it was odd, humorous. But the bison made sense; as a child my family would stop at a buffalo reserve “on post” on our way to and from church. Even the llama made sense. It’s a character in a classic Disney movie — and the theme of a favorite coffee shop.

But then I just kept falling in love with other weird animals, and I realized it’s actually me: I like weird animals. 

The musk ox. The platypus. The llama. The bison. Even the turtle is weird and strangely addictive for me, much like the moon. When I see a turtle, I just can’t tear my eyes away from it. A turtle doesn’t belong to the modern world any more than the moon or a human soul does.

Then one day I realized that if God took the time to make weird animals, He must like them. Which means He must like me. Because I’m weird. I don’t fit in a lot of places. I never have.

Weird animals are ugly and cute all at the same time. They’re common and yet uncommon. And they don’t even know they’re weird. They are gloriously unselfconscious. They just do what God made them to do. They don’t know any other way.

Jesus never intended for us to be normal, to conform to culture. He wants us to be unique, just the way He created us to be. He even likes it that way.

So now I look at my beloved weird animals and smile, knowing that I am also a beloved weirdo to the God of the universe. The designer of all that weirdness looks at me and smiles. How great is that?