It sprang at me from the kitchen drawer that held aluminum foil and plastic wrap. It was a grey whirling ball of fur and teeth with a long skinny tail. A scream that almost reached soprano boiled out of my throat, quite an accomplishment for a confirmed contralto. And then the creature was gone, disappearing under the fridge. After sliding the appliance out from the wall, we realized the rat had climbed to safety inside the back of the refrigerator.
               What do do? We didn’t know how to get the rat out of the fridge, but we knew how to get the fridge out of the house. So using a dolly and some brute strength my husband and I rolled the fridge onto the front porch and got an extension cord to keep it running.
               Once he got the back cover off the fridge, my husband and the rat engaged in a staring contest. She was wedged in tightly and refused to move, so he pulled out the vacuum and tried a little suction force to dislodge her. Eventually, she decided to abandon ship and made a dramatic exit, flinging herself off our porch to avoid capture. The end. Maybe. Will she or won’t she be back?
               None of us wants disease carrying vermin lodging in our house. But sometimes we let a few stray thoughts nest in the shadows of our minds when they should be unceremoniously carted outside. You know what thoughts I’m talking about; that sneaky negative attitude, or the big furry worry monster, or the jealous pest that nibbles on your sanity. Your thought attack animal is personalized just for you.
               You don’t have to live with this creature. Roll it outside. Reach for the vacuum. Make it feel unwelcome.
Choose to be positive. Choose giving and sharing. Choose faith, hope, and love.
Be the Love.

​Every paragraph I start, every position I frame, I fall back in exhaustion from the weight of smothering emotions, injustices done throughout history, truckloads of expert articulated words, grand solutions, a glaring lack of personal experience, and the potential offense that inappropriate words evoke.
 
Words fail me. I can’t breathe. I put my hand over my mouth.
 
God, the Master, says, “Come from the four winds. Come, breath. Breathe on these slain bodies. Breathe life!”
 
God breathed life into the nostrils of the clay man and so our earth story began. But soon we started to worship certain individuals and trample others. “Food for me, clothes for me, air for me; nothing for you.”
 
After Jesus breathed his last on the cross and then ascended triumphantly, he sent out his followers with a blessing of peace and a Spirit commission borne of his renewed breath: “A cup of water for you, food for the hungry, fresh air for all.”
 
Once the slogans, the marching, the fist pumps, the signs, the broken windows and the debris are over, after the collective roar of frustration and hopelessness echoes away into the distance, then comes the hard work. I’m hoping for reconnection. I’m envisioning forgiveness. I’m looking for reformulating. I’m anticipating being the love. I’m reaching out to move forward arm in arm.
 
Hands clasped we dust off the injured, prop up the limping, and raise the fallen who’ve had the breath knocked out of them.
                                                United. Equal. Respected. Loved. One in Christ.
 
These things should not be:  Lives needlessly squeezed away, suspicion based on skin color, economics stacked against a race.
 
These things should be:  Hands of all colors raised together toward heaven, blessings distributed to all, open hearts and listening souls.
 
Breathe life. Be the love.
 
 
From Job 40:4; Ezekiel 37:9; Genesis 2:7; Matthew 25:35,36; John 20:22.

​I’m having trouble with my eyes.
I don’t know where to focus them. They keep flitting from one terrifying news story to the next. Rioting, looting, a brush fire up the street, helicopters overhead, Covid-19, trouble with China, where do I look?
The nations are in an uproar, and kingdoms crumble!
The more I watch, the more mesmerized I become, the louder the buzzing in my ears, the throbbing at my temples. My eyes burn and water; scenes whirl around my head. I’m going under.
Save me, O God, for the floodwaters are up to my neck.
I don’t want to be swallowed whole. I don’t want to be swirled around in the maelstrom. My hands are reaching up, up. My eyes seek salvation.
I raise my eyes to you, whose throne is in heaven. For the honor of your name, lead me out of this peril.
Suddenly, my scrabbling feet find toeholds. My flailing arms find safety and my vision clears.
He sets my feet on solid ground and steadies me as I walk along. He leads me to the towering rock of safety with a mighty hand and outstretched arm.
I keep my gaze focused on his unfailing love, on the light that pierces the darkness, the glory that shines over all the earth.
But as for me, I will sing about your power. I will shout with joy each morning because of your unfailing love. For you have been my refuge, a place of safety in the day of distress.
I will keep my eyes where they belong, centered in your holiness.
Let me live forever in your sanctuary, safe beneath the shelter of your wings!
 
From Psalm 31:3; 40:2; 46:6, 59:16; 69:1,2,5; 123:1; 136:12