Droppings. That's what people refer to them as. Somehow it makes them feel better about the fact that they have discovered poop. Poop from a furry creature which has invaded your space. Dozens of little "droppings". That's what I found under my bathroom sink today. I must admit that initially I panicked - just a little bit. But then I pulled myself together and made a conscious decision to handle this calmly.
See, I have ulterior motives. I've been trying to convince Duane that I could handle living on a farm. It's just a funny dream of mine. Let me clarify what I mean by farm. More than one acre of land :), a large garden, perhaps some chickens, etc.... (By etc.. I mean a horse or 2). When I mention this, he says that I am "romanticizing a lot of hard work". If you know Duane, you know that he is not afraid of hard work. He's just afraid that I am. So, when I considered how to handle this, I could just hear him saying "And you think you want to live on a farm?"
The old me that wasn't trying to convince Duane that I could live on a farm would've left all of the poopy evidence so that Duane could experience the full drama of my discovery when he arrived home from work this afternoon. And to be honest, I probably would've expected him to clean it up. But the new me carefully plucked every item in the cabinet out - there's a lot in my cabinet. I "carefully plucked" because I was scared to death that the mouse was in there and was going to run up my arm when I least expected it. I washed everything off, threw a few things away, swept up the "droppings" and shredded paper, and washed the cabinet. Ok, here's where it gets really good. I then inspected the cabinet to find the hole that my friend may have entered through. I found it. 10 mice at a time could've fit through there. By the looks of things, it might have been 10 mice! Again, the old me would've waited until Duane got home and insisted that he fix it TO-NIGHT. The new me thought, I can handle this. "Noah", I yell, "bring me some duck tape". Proudly and confidently, I secured the hole, returned everything to the cabinet, shut the door, and dusted off my hands. As if on cue, my phone rings. It's Duane. In my initial panic state I may have called him a couple of times and sent him a text when he didn't answer. "Hello", I answer in my sweetest, calmest voice. I waited for him to bring it up :). When he did I jumped on the opportunity to boast about how I had "handled the situation". While I'm sure deep down he was very proud of me, he responded by telling me that I would have to clean all of that stuff back out and remove the duck tape so that we could trap it and it wouldn't die in our wall, rot, and stink us out. Good point.
There's another old me. One that I'm much more ashamed of. A year ago, I would've been more than just disgusted that there was poop in my bathroom cabinet. Deep down I would have been outraged. I may not have ever spoken it aloud or put it into words, but deep down I would've had the feeling that I deserved to live in rodent free environment. Or a roach free environment. I operated under the idea that I deserved to be in a comfortable, creature free, inconvenience free environment. How dare I? I have new lenses now. I've chosen to become more aware of the world around me. Or maybe I should say that God has chosen for me to become more aware. The new me thinks about the millions of children worldwide who live with rats, not mice, on a daily basis. I would imagine that some even choose to eat them, rather than starve. I really don't mean to be dramatic. It's just the truth. When our power went out a couple of days ago, the first thing I thought about was how many people in our world have no electricity. Ever. It was a bitter cold morning. I wondered how many people didn't have a warm place to stay the night before. When it takes the hot water in my kitchen sink forever to get warm, I try to thank God that I have running water. Clean water. One billion people in the world do not.
So did God give me these new lenses so that I could finally realize I don't deserve the blessings He's given me, but rather that each and every one is an undeserved gift? Or was it so that I could be more thankful for what I have? Maybe partially, but I doubt it. I don't think he blesses me so that I can sit around and be thankful for how blessed I am. I don't think He's made me more aware of the world so that I can pity those who live in deplorable conditions, are growing up without families, or are dying from AIDS. I'm definitely not boasting about this new me like I so quickly did the other one. I have so far to go. I long to move from the new me to the even newer me :). The me that does something more about what I see with my new lenses. You see, I do think He blesses me because He loves me. He loves me so much, that he desperately wants me to experience the joy that comes from truly following Him. From getting over myself and feelings of entitlement to comfort and convenience.
We will set out traps and hopefully catch our furry little friends. But, as crazy as it may sound, I'm actually a little thankful that they pooped all up in my space. It gave me one more reminder to be thankful. And even more than that, to be AWARE. And even more than that, to DO something about it.