*Not for the faint of heart*
Last night, I read a few chapters in Little Britches. (Ralph, by the way, sounds to me a lot like Isaiah.) One of the things Pa says is, paraphrased, “There’s a story in everything, if we just have eyes to see it.” And wow, was that true for me today.
I was getting in some needed campsite cleanup things (for example, I got crates for all the different recycling, since C-ville doesn’t have single stream recycling yet, where all gets put together. They make you separate it all out). I also was trying to break down the rest of the stuff in the woods: we had a few boxes yet down there, and some flower pots that kept filling up with water, and some boots. Some of the things were heavy, so I took my time.
There was one kitchen box that had been in standing water. I noticed it several weeks back, but it was such a large box, and the kitchen utensils in it were not necessary, I left it. But today was the day to move it, so I gingerly picked it up by the bottom and the handle I walked slowly up the little path. I felt a little measuring spoon drop out, and the bottom start to give, so I set it down right as all the contents shifted down and out.
I put about half the box’s contents into a blanket and carried the stuff to camp. I had a little wooden mortar and pestle, and it looked almost like a mouse had made a nest in it, with finely cut up paper. And I remembered that one of the boots had had a little black pellet on it—maybe some mice had made their nest in my kitchen wares. That was gross to contemplate as I headed back for the second round.
*Again, let me remind you, this is not for the faint of heart*
As I put my hand back in the box to get more glasswares, the copperhead snake, that had moved into the box to eat the mice, moved enough that I saw it clearly. At which point I screamed and kept on screaming. I ran to the other side of the tent, and, because it made me feel psychologically more safe, I stood on a stump and kept on screaming. (In retrospect, the mice pellets without mice could have been a clue. I saw without seeing.)
If the neighbors heard my screams, I’m sure I don’t care. I had carried a box with a copperhead in it, set the box down next to my foot as the copperhead and sundry items shifted and almost fell out, put my hand into the box multiple times, and emerged from this unscathed.
Thanks be to God.
The prayers I offer each morning for protection for myself and my family were realized (yet again) today.
Phil came with a shovel when he heard my screams (offering only the comment, “That triangular head means it’s poisonous, right?”). He used the shovel to knock the kitchenwares out of the way, then got his .22 and used it to good effect. I had read in Reader’s Digest a man had gone bow hunting and prayed, “Lord, guide my arrow today.” This was, apparently, a hunter’s prayer because “I would never pray that I would kill an animal—I just want to shoot well.”
I am not, apparently, a hunter, as I prayed fervently and repeatedly that Phil would kill the snake without injury to himself. Again, that prayer was realized. So there was much carnage in the kitchen wares: little mice died; the devourer of the mice died. But my kitchen wares remain intact, if a bit mouse-poopy.
As I said to Phil, the box could have broken at the homesite, where the boys were playing and where a good shot would have been extremely difficult. It could have been that the snake was so completely unaggressive because it had just eaten a large meal.
Now we are praying against nightmares, but if the Lord protected us from the poisonous serpent, I think he can guard our dreams without any problem.
In the last chapter of Mark, Jesus says that his followers will be able to carry poisonous serpents without harm. That was literally true for me today.
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