Of Mice and Ministers

As many of you know, we've been struggling for several months with mice in the parsonage kitchen. I haven't had much experience in dealing with mice, but now we're living out in the country, in an older house with plenty of little crevices, and mice seem to have no difficulty finding ways to escape from the cold.  After finding a happy winter home, they've apparently decided to stay.

Initially, I noticed a small dropping or two in the drawer of the oven, but nothing else.  We just tried to encourage them to move somewhere else, by cleaning carefully and making sure no food or drink was left out in the open.  But soon the droppings started appearing in the food cupboards and on the counter tops, and it became obvious that stronger measures were needed.  So reluctantly, we started putting out traps.  Enticed by the advertising for "anesthetizing trays," I put several of those on the counter tops.  I was shocked a few days later at breakfast time, when I discovered a poor, pitiful mouse trying to run away down the hallway,  dragging a tray trap stuck to its foot.  I switched to enclosed traps, trying to avoid having to look at the mortal effects of my anti-rodent militancy, and caught several unlucky creatures. Friends offered various electric clicking and beeping devices intended to drive mice away, and we used them all.  But the insurgency continued.  We were beginning to feel like the American military in Afghanistan, dealing with a largely invisible and seemingly inexhaustible group of adversaries, who simply refused to negotiate or be reasonable.

Even as the weather grew warmer, new evidence of nocturnal explorations continued to appear almost every day.  We continued to try to clean everything, and to place silverware, plates, pots and pans in sealed tubs and in the refrigerator.  It was frustrating to keep retreating to a smaller and smaller range of "known clean" workspace and utensils, and disgusting to have to clean up all the mouse droppings.

Finally, it seemed obvious that we needed professional help, and we called an exterminator, who calmly and confidently took over.  What a relief.

I was reminded that there are a lot of times like that in life, when our best efforts seem to be floundering, and all we can do is reach out for help.  Even when our own efforts are obviously futile, we often resist accepting that help, either from the people who love us or from God.  I guess we just don't want to admit our own failure.  But when we finally admit our needs, we find such great relief and renewal.  Our problems may not be unsolvable after all.

"Come to me, all you who are burdened and heavy laden," Jesus said, "and I will give you rest."  I pray today for the simple grace to recognize when I need to lay my burdens down, accept the opportunity to rest, and receive the help of the One who knows what I really need.