The Return of the Nemesis.

I had another one of those nights – the ones where you lie awake listening to the monster in the kitchen as he eats his way through all your groceries. It makes me crazy enough to want to go all axe murderer on it, but just slightly scared enough to keep me trapped in the bedroom until the noise stops. It’s a dang mouse. And I loathe it, but have sort of developed an emotional attachment to it all at the same time.

So maybe ‘monster’ is a bit of a stretch. But just a bit. This thing is crafty. And there’s not much stopping me at this point from burning my house down to get to him. I’ve named the mouse Tony Stark, because the thing is made of iron. He’s already pulled himself right off a sticky trap and dodged my frontline attack of regular traps, which I strategically placed all around the entrance of his home, which unforgivably is inside my home.

Before I realized that one of these tiny terrors had returned, I automatically assumed that my husband was the one tossing things in the garbage and unhooking the bag from the edges of the garbage can. Every day I would wake up and grunt to myself, because that’s what wives do, at the sight of the plastic garbage bag all in a heap at the bottom of the trash can and the garbage everywhere. And Phil, my hub, denied the charges I’d already laid against him in my mind, probably because he knew what I was thinking even though I didn’t say it out loud. But then the noises began. And suddenly it was all clear. Phil was innocent. I was guilty of assuming. And once again, we had a mouse living under our roof that wasn’t paying rent.

Seems like every time I go into an epic stretched out battle with one of these rodents and come out on top, another one presents itself. I hate mice. And from what I can tell, they hate me too; living under my roof for free, eating all of my food, making a mess…maybe this is God preparing me for children.

I’m not pregnant, don’t bother starting rumours.

I suppose the return of the undead mice can be related to a number of life’s other crummier situations. Tiny little problems that like to keep coming back, even though you thought you dealt with them. It seems like God is using every little event in my life these days to show me things. But it’s true – the minute we take our eyes off God, all of the tiny problems return. Have you ever noticed that? Man, it’s hard to stay focused. Sometimes all I want to do is run off and play, do things, get busy, socialize. But forgetting to rest in God’s presence leaves me feeling tired, restless and easily agitated. I don’t know about the rest of you, but for the sake of my health I need to be spending time with God to restore my peace of mind. Or I can become a firecracker real fast.

Boston says it well, “I understand about indecision, But I don’t care if I get behind. People livin’ in competition, all I want is to have my peace of mind.” And yes I did just hum that tune. And just for the record, I hit the high note and everything.

Anyways, I’ll leave you with a bunch of clever crap that I hope makes your day or week a little bit clearer. God isn’t a god of confusion, He’s the God of peace. So do you trust Him or not? Sometimes its not about rushing around to find all the answers. Its about waiting upon the Lord for Him to indicate your next move. But we’re all so impatient, aren’t we? My best tactical plan is this; to make sure my heart is calm and I’m thinking straight. Because when I go after Tony Stark, I will bring him and the rest of this invasion down.

Phillipians 4:6-7 chats it up like this, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Kropf out.

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