March 24, 2013

• What Died in my Attic?

  Not long ago, I posted my experience with getting yet another bat out of the attic. That's been the most common pest. When we first moved into the house, I also had to deal with yellow-jackets, but I've not seen them for some time now. 

  After I removed the bat, I was up early (as is my custom) and heard scurrying sounds from the attic. The first thing that came to my mind was "rat." I wouldn't have heard a mouse, and when we lived in Hawaii the military duplex we lived in was infested with both rats and roaches. The rats nested in the attic, and would come out to eat Christmas candy. The roaches were so integral to the walls that  all it took was a smack on the wall to hear them rustling. 

  We have Hitchcock styled horror stories for both, although I believe @SaintVi has already shared those, and it's not the point of what died in my attic.

  I didn't have a rat trap on hand, but I did have a chipmunk live-catch trap that I use for those critters, as they tend to work their way into our yard during the summer months. They're easier to catch than the moles, so I have a better track record with those. I figured the trap would work for a rat, as well, so I wrapped some wild birdseed in cheese and put the little cage in the attic. 

  Checked it the next morning - empty.

  And the next morning - empty.

  And on the third day ... the trap was empty and an angel of the Lord sat upon the box that had covered it ... oops ... sorry, blending stories.  

  Anyway - the trap was empty, and I quit looking for a while. 

  About a week goes by and I'm showered an in my pajamas and headed for bed when the thought comes to my mind - "Is there anything in the trap?" So, I pull down the stairway, walk up it and peer down the aisle. There is something in the trap ... and it's not a rat ... and it is dead. Since there's really no point in my pulling it down from there when the temps are in the 20's and I'm one pillow away from slumberland, I opt to keep the secret to myself and wait for the next day. 

  After work, I remember to go into the attic, and look more closely at the trap.  In it .... is a chipmunk.

  Seriously??

  I'm not sure how it got up there, but I'd guess it came across tree branches and jumped onto the roof. Why it took 3+ days to catch, I have no idea, unless our attic was just a stop along the way. I tossed the body on the compost pile and reset the trap, as I've discovered chipmunks seldom hang out alone. I checked it the first couple of day, but haven't done so since. Come to think of it, it might have been a week now. 

   

  In other news ...

  We presented a hymn sing service on Saturday, as we usually do. It's the same location where Elmer, a dear friend who is now well into his 90's now lives. We know Elmer from better days at our former church. He was (and is) a model of service as a spiritual gift. We often have some trouble with getting staff support at this residence, but yesterday it went very well. That's the background, and not my story. My story is Rachel.

  Rachel is 45 years old, and in many respects, a very attractive brunette. Occasionally, we meet people our age in these residences. Sometimes, it's to recover from surgery and other times, it's a debilitating disease. (A plug for Ralph Waldo Emerson: "The first wealth is health.")  Rachel is currently in a wheelchair, but makes a point to attend every activity possible, hence why she showed up at our hymn sing service. Afterward, she made a point to speak with me at length about her story and how our service touched her. 

  Rachel is struggling with breast cancer. The cancer moved from her breast and into her bones, taking up residence in her right hip. Between the cancer and the radiation treatment therapy, the pelvic bone is too damaged to support her weight. Before the disease she was tremendously active, and now finds herself confined to the wheelchair, and has a lot more treatment in front of her.  During the course of our service, we presented the story of the man who was lame for 38 years  John 5:1-13. Imagine being lame since 1975, and you get the idea. 

  I presented that a curious aspect of the story is the man's answer to Jesus when he's asked: "Do you want to get well?"

  Most would answer "Yes!"  He answers, "I can't sir," and then explains his one-solution view to his problem.  I explained that often we get stuck into the idea that we are in a place where there is only one solution, when sometimes there are others. 

  This particular part of the message touched Rachel, and she wanted to be sure we knew that. She is single, and far from her family, so her support group is fairly small. Given the details she shared with me, I think she needed that listening ear. From time to time, don't we all?

  Most of the people to whom we minister are not really able to share their thoughts in a cogent way. When we do get that kind of blessing, it is a double portion. 

   

  Palm Sunday - It's been a while since I was busy with all things church on a Christian holiday. Today was one of them. I started out the day by taking the second week of one of the adult SS classes on the topic of "Generous Justice." It's a book written by Timothy Keller that we've been going through. The regular teacher's daughter delivered their first grandchild this past week, so I covered both Sundays. Curiously, both Dennis and Paula were back this week, so they were students in their own course!  That was kind of weird. 

  Right after that, I helped in the nursery. Three little ones - two infants, and a very active toddler, made up the group. I got to meet Jodi, a 30-something mom, who was the "lead" aide. (I was just a lackey.) While there, the mom of one of the infants came and stayed. Interesting story - she recently discovered her newborn has Down's Syndrome. Lots of spiritual and emotional struggling is going on there. While the ladies (by which time there were 3) were sharing and consoling and talking with each other ... pretty much without breath ... I kept a close eye on the little boy. We had a good time. When I did get a chance to share a thought, I told the troubled mom that I've met many people with Down's Syndrome, and here's one thing they have in common: Their spirit is among the purest you'll ever find.

  The nature of that disease keeps many at a functional level of a small child, but imagine being four or five years old for decades. It's a child's view of the world, seasoned with years of experience in it. People with Down's are among the most beautiful souls I've met. They are a lot of work, physically, spiritually, and emotionally - but they are precious. I do understand why many women/couples will terminate their pregnancy if they know the child has Downs. If I understand things correctly, this is why there are fewer cases of it now, than in previous years. I pass NO judgment on those people. I will say that for those who do raise these children into adults, they will likely be blessed in discovering not only the purity of their child's spirit, but also the well-tempered brilliance of their own. 

  Right after the nursery, I went down the road to help present a half-hour of the Sunday Service at another church with our ministry group. The pastor is a learned, liberal, and eccentric man who is an absolute riot and delight for us. He also allows us to use their fellowship hall for a silent prayer meeting we hold once a month. When the Palm Sunday service at one of the residences was cancelled on Wednesday because of illness in the facility, he graciously accepted Donna's request (which he had previously offered) for our group to be part of their worship. As it turned out, their regular accompanist was absent, and David had a sore throat, so he wasn't looking forward to speaking/leading a full hour.  Interesting timing.   Our presentation went fine, and we were graciously received.

  And at last ... I came home.  

  @SaintVi made a lovely, simple lunch of a sort of dinner-roll sandwich, fruit and cold veggies.  In honor of Palm Sunday, we watched Jesus Christ Superstar (the 1973 version).  I still love, love that musical. 

   

  And that, my Xanga friends is all I'll write for now.  Many more things coming, including a printed article and my supervising the movement of nuclear fuel rods from the reactor to the spent fuel pool. 

  I should wear my "Where's Waldo?" costume for that.

   

  • 5:56 pm
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