Home Invasion

When Steph and I lived in Tennessee, our apartment was a small 2 bedroom basement unit in a quad house. Honestly, the who quad would fit in the blueprint of the farmhouse we live in right now. It was tiny, sometimes dank, and not devoid of critters while we were there. One night, while I was working on my Old Testament Worship project, we were invaded by termites. Well, they weren't actually wood eating termites. They were the scout termites that search out new places to munch on for the rest of the wood eating colony. As I was sitting there typing and fretting because I had to pull together a 20 page paper and a hour presentation together in the matter of days, the vermin began falling from the ceiling light fixture. I got out the sweeper and proceeded to vacuum them up as they came through the light. Needless to say, I didn't get much work done that night. My prof was nice enough to give me an extension on the paper.

Yet another night while I was up working on a paper or something, I noticed a blur out of the corner of my eye. You know what I mean. You think you saw something catch your attention, so you turn and look. Most of the time, there is nothing. At that point, you figure you are hallucinating because of the lack of sleep and you press on with what you were doing. Not this night. As I turned to look, there in my shoe was a little brown mouse. The battle was on. If I remember correctly, I shut the door and put a towel under it so the thing couldn't escape to the hallway, or worse, to the bedroom where Steph was sleeping. I move things as quietly as I could. I tried and tried to corner him and catch him. It was back and forth for probably a half an hour. Then, the unthinkable. He somehow snuck out underneath the door.

At this point, I had to involve Steph. She doesn't like animals in the first place. In my mind, I can only imagine what she is going to do when I wake her at 3am because a mouse has just crawled into her closet. I think, "this is going to be great!" With her roused, she joins the battle. We proceed to empty out our hallway and block each exit with cd racks, towels under doors, and whatever else I can find. Then I attacked her closet, removing each box and such one at a time. After about another half an hour he was trapped in the wastebasket and quickly put outside to run free.

After that encounter, mice were a regular thing in our basement apartment. We would catch one every once in awhile on a trap under one of the cabinets in the kitchen. The landlord couldn't totally figure out where they were coming in from. He steel wooled some of the holes that looked suspicious and left us to fend for ourselves.

Unfortunately, this was not the most memorable. That occasion would have been when Steph was awaken by something chirping. I figured it was a cricket, since they were very common in our dank basement apartment. It annoyed her enough that she got out of bed to go make noise in the hallway, hopefully scaring it to be quiet again. As she stepped out of bed, another chirp came from right beside her foot. They were not crickets talking however. They were baby mice calling for their mother. She would not come to their aid that evening, for she got greedy for peanut butter and was dead in the trap in the kitchen. There was no hour long ordeal that evening. I quickly scooped up 4 or 5 baby mice into a shoe box and duct taped them together so they couldn't come back in. Morbidly, I think I tossed their mother in with them before I put the shoe box in the dumpster.

Now, I know you are probably wondering when I'm actually going to get to the point. Oh, there is more to tell.

Our mice woes followed us to Michigan. We live in a farmhouse that is roughly 140 years old.
The basement walls are like swiss cheese if you are small and in need of a warmer place to stay. We found one mouse one year, dead under the fridge. We thought nothing of it. I don't even think I bought traps. That was, until I got a bird feeder. A good friend of mine bought me a bird feeder for Christmas our first or second year here. I quickly hung it and began to enjoy the multitude of birds that would come and feed. It made me think often of my grandmother, who had a fond love for birds and could tell some of them by their whistles and noises. It was about that time that we began to be invaded by mice. At first it was just one. He popped his way into the living room one night while Steph and I sat on the couch watching a movie. I guess he just wanted to watch it with us. I tried for a little while to catch him, but gave up. With new traps set the next day, he was quickly eradicated.

Unfortunately, his brothers, sisters, aunts, and uncles, amongst other kin, decided to come along with him into our house. A couple of days later, we noticed some mice on the front porch at night, eating bird seed. We also began finding tiny piles here and there in the house. Needless to say, the birdfeeder has been stored since then. We caught 10 or so mice that year.

Even now, we get a stray mouse every once in awhile. However, they are greedy little vermin who love peanut butter. Two traps continually wait for them, and more often than not, do the job we want them to do.

In addition to mice, our house has become home to insects like carpenter ants and box elder bugs. This year has been the worst. I think I killed thousands of box elder bugs this spring. They would congregate on the outside bricks in the sun, all huddled together like a giant mass of bug. Their exoskeleton doesn't do well with dish soap mixed with scalding hot water, so I've found out. And, to our joy, I either killed the bulk of them or they went somewhere else for the rest of the summer. I pray they don't return.

Then comes along the heat the past couple of weeks. That sends the carpenter ants out of the 140 year old walls into our house. I think I sprayed 3 or 4 times in the last week. I think they mock me when I come with the spray gun. They run around haphazardly and beg me to try and hit them. Unfortunately for them, I also have sandals that squish. Steph's parents were here last week. Grandpa did his fair share of ant killing around here. Whether it was a shoe or a tissue, many an ant was squashed and discarded last week.

Hannah even gets in on the action. You'll hear her scream, "ANT, ANT!" and see her run for a shoe, which she quickly then begins whacking on the floor until the target is properly obliterated. In the house, this is good. Outside on the porch, not so good. I think she killed 3 or 4 pill bugs who innocently ventured out of the yard onto the sidewalk behind the house today. Bugs beware, the crazed two year old is on the rampage!

There are also the aforementioned groundhogs. If I could only get Hannah to take her shoes after them.

One would think that we've had our fill of vermin and pestilence already. I wish that were the case. It seems that farmhouses are also a welcome mat for bats. Now, I knew I had bats in the attic. One night while grabbing a fan for CIY, I noticed an innocent little bat hanging from one of the rafters, startled by my presence and the light in his quiet attic. Bats in the attic don't bother me. They bother Steph, but that just keeps her out of the attic (though she never really went out there anyway because it is "creepy"). I know they are there because of their poo droppings. I don't mind it. I look when I go out to make sure they aren't going to attack my head and I'm good to go. Every once in awhile, one will find its way into our ceiling, between the drop ceiling and the old plaster ceiling. We'll sit in the living room and hear it flop back and forth for awhile before it finds its way back from where it came. No big deal.

However, this summer we started seeing droppings in the basement. Not all that surprising to me--it is an old house with lots of open passage ways from the attic to the basement. Steph doesn't like it too much since the washer and dryer are in the poo path. It creeps her out, but she knows that I will probably turn the clothes the wrong color, so she braves it. Sometimes I go down with her to help protect her, not that I'll really be able to do anything since bats are quite jittery and uncatchable. Sometimes she stands at the top of the steps before entering the chasm and screams, "I'M COMING DOWN!!!!!!!!" It is quite a scene.

We also see the bats come out every night. Its somewhat fun to me to watch them swoop out of the back porch from the attic to feast on the plethora of mosquitos we have. I like them for that! If that were all, I would be geeked. Yet, that is not the case.

Tonight when we came home from our weekly trip to Wallyworld, I was greeted by a rather large bat circling in the living room. I would guess his wing span was 10 inches or more. Luckily, Hannah was slow getting out of the car and her and momma were still outside. I, once again, went out to tell Steph that we were being invaded yet again and that she might want to wait outside, which she gladly did. Having the bat in the living room poses both good luck and bad luck. The good luck is that the front door is right there. Its a nice big space that the bat can fly through to get back out into the open air where he belongs. The bad part about the living room is that there are 5 other doors leading to other places in our house, all of which were open when I clicked on the light and was greeted by a bat swooping at my head.

I think God was on my side tonight. After shutting 4 of the 5 doors, the bat realized that it was soon to get ugly if he didn't get out of the house. He circled one last time and silently exited through the front door. I'm still a little befuddled on how he got in the house. All the screens are in place. The door to the attic and basement are always closed. If anything, he came in the crack above the attic door, though I would guess he was too fat for it. Oh well. He's gone now.

Needless to say, I'm tired of being invaded by critters. I don't like the fact that their presence, even though they are part of God's creation and quite beautiful in their own regard, disrupts the sanctity of my home. My wife will have sonic ears and eyes for the next few days now that we've been visited. I will to a little. I guess you could say we've become accustomed to the critters over the last 8 years--to the continual home invasion.

Our spiritual lives are the same way, though. We do our best to keep things clean and vermin free. We study, we pray, we ask others (hopefully) to keep us accountable to be people of the light. And yet, even in all of that, the darkness seeps in and messes things up. If we aren't diligent about it, the darkness will stay and steal away the light. It will infest the house and eventually, if left unchecked, destroy it.

We are diligent against the bugs, the mice, and the bats in this old house. Even in our diligence, they still enter in unexpectedly, invading our home. Sin and darkness is the same way. What traps and preventative measures do you have in place to deal with it quickly, so the light stays light? Or are you infested and feeling helpless? There is hope! Clean the house. Put away the bird feeder. Clog up all the places where darkness can seep in. Get help! We as Christians are all in this together, helping one another stay in the light.

Psalm 1 (TNIV)

Blessed are those who do not walk in step with the wicked
or stand in the way that sinners take
or sit in the company of mockers,
but who delight in the law of the LORD
and meditate on his law day and night.

They are like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither—whatever they do prospers.

Not so the wicked!
They are like chaff that the wind blows away.

Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.
For the LORD watches over the way of the righteous,
but the way of the wicked will be destroyed.

Buttons and Belts

Why is it that buttons fall off at the most inopportune times? I was in the bathroom at the mall the other day, doing what you do in a bathroom, when the button on my shorts popped off. This wouldn't have been a problem if I had remembered to put on a belt that morning. However, I had not. When I was done with my business, I zipped, washed, and headed out the door, praying that the zipper would stay in place and keep my shorts in the appropriate place. Unfortunately, it did not hold. Now, I know what you are thinking. Stop it. I did not fully lose my shorts to gravity. It was close, though. I spent the rest of our time in the mall with my hands in my pockets, holding up my shorts.

Life is like that sometimes. When you least expect it, something bad happens and makes everything even worse. It would be really easy to cower into a corner and give up. Some will choose this solution. Others will get mad at the situation and lash out. Yet others will decide to improvise and troubleshoot what has happened to make the best out of the situation. This is the hard road in my opinion. Though, it is the road that I seem to be walking lately--the road that I have not chosen. I do not feel like I get to make my own decisions right now. The only option I have is to react to what has already happened and make the most of it. That is not always a good feeling. It is definitely not freeing.

Tenacity is a word I learned at 8th grade basketball camp. One of the coaches there used it to describe how one should play defense. He was the most intense of all the coaches that week. He was the hardest of all the coaches. We dreaded drill time with him. But, thinking back, he was the one that I remember. I can still hear him screaming in my head, “butt to the baseline!"

When the road we walk becomes tough, we need to become tenacious with how we live. This is especially true for those who claim faith in the most High. Faith is nothing if it does not include anything more than mere thoughts. It is nothing if it is not lived out tenaciously when things get hard, even if it gets too hard to handle and your only option is to react. That is when the want to be faithful, to live out kingdom ways needs to take over. There needs to be a deep resolve to live out the fruit of the Spirit and not become worldly with our actions. We need to lay aside the thoughts of revenge, anger, and giving up and be the people that God has called us to be--those who are called by his name because they are holy--set apart and different.

Paul tells us that we need to cloth ourselves in the armor of light in Romans 13. In Ephesians 6, its the armor of God. Interestingly, the first part of that armor is the belt of truth.

"Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist. . ."

Ironically (to me anyway), I was wearing a pair of the new shorts I bought on the aforementioned shopping trip today. When I went to the bathroom, the button on them fell off. Brand new, yet already broken. And to think, I almost didn't wear a belt today because they were new.

Be ready for anything and make the most of what God puts before you!

Anniversaries

Thirteen years ago today, Steph and I returned from a trip to Toronto, Canada with friends from our church college group to see The Phantom of the Opera at Pantages Theatre and to visit Niagra Falls. It was a great trip with many highlights, like running through the parking deck in our formal attire because we were late in getting to the opera. The night of the opera she wore a red, polka dot dress. I remember it as if it were yesterday. She was stunning!

That night we went out to Chilis, which is her favorite restaurant. If I remember right, we both had burgers, and of course, chips, salsa, and skillet queso. After dinner, we drove to the church we grew up at, and I proposed to her in my powder blue Ford Escort under the carport of the church. I was going to propose to her at Niagra Falls. I had the ring in my pocket, ready to go, but it wasn't right. It was too public. She knew it was coming, and didn't want it to happen there.

Now, some might say that proposing in a powder blue Escort under a carport is not romantic. Yet, for us, it was perfect. We grew up at that church. We played in the nursery together, though we don't really remember it. We were in church plays together there. I sang in the choir beside her father. It was the center of our connection.

That night she agreed to be my wife. My love for her was strong then, though it was a different kind of love that I have for her now. It was a young love, steeped in infatuation and innocence. And, from that moment on, I've been learning about her and loving her more as every day passes. We've come a long way from that quiet night in my car. It has not always been perfect. It has not always been easy. At times, it was downright horrible and painful. Even in those times, love has carried us through.

My love for my wife is the deepest ever right now. She has not always been perfect. Neither have I. Yet, we've always committed to doing our best to right wrongs and show love as best we can. She's given me the most beautiful daughter anyone could ever want. And, as I have watched her be a mother to Hannah, my love for her has multiplied many times over.

Babydoll, thank you for your presence in my life. Thank you for the last thirteen plus years of friendship. Thank you for staying beside me in this journey that we are on, even during the hard times. Thank you for seeing through my inadequacies and loving me anyway. I have done my best to do the same. Thank you for being the mother that you are to our daughter and for loving her the way you do. You are still stunning to me, even though you don't think it at times. You will always be stunning to me. I thank God every day for you and pray that he would continue to give us love, life, and hope. I promise to continue to cherish and love you in every way possible for as long as I live.

Groundhogs

My back yard is full of groundhogs. That's what happens when you live on what used to be a farm. They used to live out in the field to the north of the farmhouse I live in, but they were ran out of town by our church building. It's been fun watching the baby groundhogs run around the back yard from year to year.

The only real run in I've ever had was last summer. One of the babies was up close to the house one day when Steph, Hannah, and I came home one afternoon. Me, being the guy that I am, decided to take off and chase it, to introduce it to the greater of God's creation called man. However, the little furball rodent had not learned to fear the greater creation and quickly turned and charged me. This wouldn't have been a problem had I been wearing real shoes; I would have punted him into next week. However, I was wearing flip flops because it was summer. Naked toes and sharp teeth don't go together in my paradigm of life, so I did what any 270 pound man would do--turned and ran like a little girl. My wife still giggles about it.

On Saturday, we piled into the car to take Hannah to Fast Track (our hospital's version of a walk in clinic) because of some minor health issues. I go to start the car and nothing happens. Mind you, the car has been sitting for a week while we were at CIY, and worked well the last time I drove it. Needless to say, I was frustrated. My daughter was sick, my car didn't work. It wasn't a good day. Later that afternoon I made a few phone calls to those who are more car repair oriented than me and came to the conclusion that either my starter was bad or that some of the extra electronic gizmos they put on your cars was not working. I knew it was way beyond my expertise, so I pushed my car out of it's normal spot in my driveway so the tow truck to take it away on Monday.

Sunday rolls around and one of the before mentioned car repair oriented peoples stops by to take a look. As we are looking under the hood, I see this foot behind the engine. It is attached to a hairy, furballish body. I quickly grabbed a stick and began poking and prodding at it to get it out of my engine. Why an animal that God created to live in the ground decided to crawl up into my engine compartment is beyond me. But he was there. I figured that the car was closer to his turf than its place in the driveway. He was just exploring. He left after awhile, once we stepped away from the car.

Now, I know what you are thinking. The car doesn't start, maybe the little furball chewed threw something. I thought that too, as did my wife. Yet, when I looked behind the engine compartment, there didn't seem to be any wires that he could chew on. Plus, I figured he was just crawling up in there because he was young and fearless (remembering back to my earlier encounter with one of his brothers/uncles).

This leads to this morning. Before the tow company came to pick up my car, I saw the furball and one of his siblings playing in my front yard. As I tried to scare them, one ran under the car. While this frustrated me, I didn't want the little guy to take a scary ride to the auto dealership. So I popped the hood and promptly gave him a few more good whacks with the stick, which sent him scurrying for the safety of his hole in the ground. Hopefully he has learned his lesson.

About an hour ago, I got a call from the car dealership. It seems that my little engine stowaway chewed through a wire harness or something to that effect. It's going to cost me $275 with the tow to get my car back up and running.

It's going to be a bad week for groundhogs. . .