Day 7: Possum-proof Peace

Catch the foxes for us—the little foxes that ruin the vineyards—for our vineyards are in bloom. Song of Songs 2:15

You may not know that Missy and I live on what I like to call a “farmette”—a five-acre plot our log home is perched on (a.k.a.: Missy’s Mountain). Anyway, not too long ago the winter sun had just set behind the snowy hill adjacent to the farmette, and I was musing contentedly about what a peaceful day we’d enjoyed. Missy was on the backside of a virus and although she no longer had a fever, she was still feeling a bit puny, so we stayed home in our pajamas—a lovely rarity for us—and watched family-friendly movies all day while the aroma of brownies baking permeated the whole house. I was merrily humming a tune from one of the old movies we’d watched when I took Maggie (the very energetic puppy I gave Missy for Christmas) outside for her final potty break of the evening.

But all that serenity was shattered when I was bombarded by a flash of fur and frenzied—albeit gleeful—barking. A possum had waddled out of the fringe of woods flanking our backyard, and our mischievous new pup took off after it like she’d been shot out of a cannon!

Of course, I was compelled to chase after both Missy’s furry friend and the hissing, nasty looking marsupial to ensure that neither one of them got hurt in the melee. And thankfully, after much panting, hollering, and several ungainly slipping-and-falling-on-the-ice attempts, I was finally able to catch and carry a dramatically remorseful, squirming Maggie back up the steep hill to our house, allowing the possum to scurry back into the woods unscathed.

Maggie made it, thank goodness! However, I can’t say the same for my pajamas. They got so mud-splattered in the process that I’m not sure they’ll ever be wearable again and my favorite Ugg slippers now resemble days-old roadkill, complete with horse manure ground into the crevices of the soles!

I must confess in the midst of this possum debacle, I lamented not having a hunky, flannel-shirt-wearing husband—like some of the fictional dudes we’d just watched on the Hallmark Channel—to rescue me from all the dirty work our wee farmette requires. But after I opened the door and Missy realized it was actually her mommy and not some swamp monster under all that mud, gales of belly-laughter jerked me back into the glorious miracle of everyday life. Once I’d showered, changed into clean pajamas, and Maggie was snuggled up and snoring away in her crate, I sensed God whisper, “Do you really want to change this life I’ve lavished you with?” And I sheepishly whispered back, “No, Sir. No way!”

I mean, we all get a teensy bit frustrated about life’s little inconveniences. But there’s no way I’m going to let a possum take off with my peace again!

• What little foxes (a.k.a.: possums!) are threatening to steal the bloom of peace from your life?
• Have you asked God for wisdom regarding how to best send them scurrying back to the proverbial woods?
• What special moments or experiences jerk you back into the glorious miracle of everyday life?