The wolf, the sheep, and the cabbages

It might have been when I was 10 years old, when I first encountered this little challenge in a book. A farmer must cross a river in his small boat, transporting a wolf, a sheep, and a basket of cabbages. It's never occurred to me until just now to wonder at the kind of farmer who would have that transport challenge, or just why someone who farms sheep and cabbage would want to be anywhere near a wolf. But that might be akin to wondering why someone would be buying 64 watermelons, say. This is a problem designed to encourage thinking and creativity. To stretch the brain. To make, perhaps, new neural pathways.

The challenge is that the farmer can fit only himself and one other item or animal in the boat, and he has to get them all across to the other side of the river. The wolf won't eat the cabbages but will eat the sheep. The sheep will eat the cabbages. The cabbages won't, apparently, eat anything.

I thought of this little thinking game just this morning. M., the hubs, was still sleeping when I got up. I set about getting the cat and two small dogs their kibble. Because the cats and the dogs would each eat one another's rations, we have developed a system both for where they eat and also in what order we deliver their food. 

I collect that cat's bowl from a side bathroom, part of what's called a Jack-and-Jill, a full bathroom that opens on one side to a powder room. The bathroom is off a bedroom for which we leave the door propped so the cat can slink in but the dogs really cannot. 

I pick up the dogs' bowls from opposite sides of the kitchen and put all three on the counter. Fill the bowls. 

Leaving the dogs' bowls, I deliver the cat her food, closing the door behind me so that the cat can eat and then is free to move about the house. I return to the kitchen and set down the food first for the older, slower dog. Then the younger dog, who is the most impatient for food. This solution is not exactly analogous to the brain teaser, but close enough to get me pondering (which, I admit, does not take much).

In the cabbages challenge, the solution is this:

The farmer must first transport the sheep across, leaving the wolf with the cabbages. He crosses back over and picks up the cabbages. (Yes, you have spotted a problem.) He transports the cabbages and picks up the sheep. He takes the sheep back to the original bank of the river and exchanges it for the wolf. He transports the wolf, who is now on the other side with the cabbages. He then transports the sheep.

To solve this puzzle, the thinker must come up with a solution that goes beyond moving A to B. 

How often do my relationships - with God, with the hubs, with anyone - function like this brain teaser?  How much of my relational living is limited because of my own thinking, the neural pathways I currently have, the neural pathways that have decayed from lack of use? What if a fundamental (as in, the foundation) part of my being a beloved and unique creation of God is the ongoing invitation to explore?

To puzzle out hypothetical situations. To play "Apples to Apples" (we have) and "Cards Against Humanity" (I haven't). To read books in genres I don't like, by authors I've never heard of? To read and listen to commentary opposed to my own? What if the way forward in a time that seems dark is simply a matter of being willing, being open, to engaging with the question of the wolf, the sheep, and the cabbages?