The hole in the bag of muesli spilled a small pile of grain to the floor. A small collection of random fluff and objects is found gathered into a nest behind the sofa. Our worst fears are realised. Mickey's come to town.
After much searching, the mousetrap is finally found and set (with chocolate as the bait). We bed down for the night to wait what the morning will bring. It brings a tiny corpse, a problem solved, but also some conflicting emotions.
I know they are filthy and unhygenic. But as I stare at Jerry in the trap, I am overwhelmed by just how beautiful he looks. No other word to describe. Even in his squashed and lifeless state, the eyes shine, the feet are tiny works of perfection, the glossy nose and the feathery whiskers are a miracle of design and construction. I mourn for this glorious piece of God's handiwork that I had squished the life out of, for the sake of homeland security.
"Don't show it to me" says the beloved. "it was only trying to get along and to live". (She was the one who'd ordered the execution, but it wasn't the moment to mention that.) Daughters variously fascinated, appalled, bemused.
As the dog sniffs interestedly, and not-so-speedy Gonzales is placed in a crumpled Sainsbury's bag and committed to the deep of the dustbin, I wonder at the value of my own life and its passing.
“All people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall...” says Peter.
I am nothing, small as a mouse when compared to the span of history and the breadth of the cosmos: and yet, and yet:
... but the word of the Lord endures forever.” And this is the word that was preached to you.
Through the Gospel message I can endure forever. Humbled. Inspired.
That's the challenge a senior editor at American Christian publisher Crossway gave to 25 ministers and scholars.
It makes for some interesting reading. The longest sentence is 132 words—the shortest is just four!
Why not add your summary by commenting below?
Really sad story in the papers today, about a young woman who announced in her Facebook “status update” that she'd overdosed on pills and would soon die.
Many ignored her - some poked fun online - no-one went to help her, and she died.
In some ways, it's a kind of Good Samaritan story for the technological age - she was dying by the roadside, and people just cyber-walked by. But, sadly, there was no Good Samaritan in this real-life tragedy.
It got me to thinking (a bit, it was quite late). My first thought was: thank goodness our church community isn't like Facebook! In church, we bear one another's burdens; we take one another seriously; we care enough to ask others how they are and listen to the answer; we put ourselves out to love one another sacrificially.
This kind of thing just wouldn't happen in church. Phew!
REALLY?
But then I though: Is that actually true? Is my church really like that? And am I a church member who does look out for others; who does take an interest in others and put myself out for them?
Would I notice if someone wasn't there, and follow it up? Would others know they could ring my phone or my doorbell at any time they needed to?
Worryingly, I'm really not sure.
“As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13 v 34-35)
Let's start a new "tradition" for new year! We have Santa who leaves presents, a tooth fairy that exchanges worn out molars for money and an Easter Bunny that dispenses chocolate for no good reason - why not a Resolution Goblin that sneaks into your room on New Year's Eve and leaves suggestions for how you can improve yourself in the coming year?
