I sat in the moist grass at dusk, staring up, peasant skirt splayed out around me. I hadn’t had a chance to change out of my work clothes—vaguely thought of jeans–could feel the damp seeping into the thin material…but was too spent to truly care. It was Tired Tuesday, the day I drive back and forth, rush to and fro, counseling the wounded and shuttling eager minds.
As I sat, thus, my husband paced back and forth along the side of the house, shining his flashlight steadily along its sturdy frame.
We have bats.
During the daylight hours we can hear them scratching about in the bowels of the soffit, leaving no doubt about their presence. We have scoured the shell of our humble abode but so far have not found their doorway in. Or out, for that matter.
So we waited at dusk, straining to catch sight of wing as light slowly waned.
The stars came out, one by one, and soon thoughts of furry winged creatures flew…I was enchanted by the coming on of night. The air was filled with birdsong, and I wondered why the Robins sing at dusk. Is it a lullaby? A farewell? Or simply a song of gratitude to Him who gave the day?
My thoughts lingered on my own.
A long day, it was. Frustrating. Disappointing.
My unhappiness at work grows, and yet…nothing changes.
I think of one of the patients I talked with today. How his words filled me, yet left me empty.
I love what I do, he said. I awaken every day filled with gratitude. I get to do this thing I love. It’s amazing.
I tried to hold his gaze as he spoke, but I felt he could see through me—I felt watery, translucent.
So I looked away.
I have tried to live each moment. Appreciate the gifts of the Giver. I have prayed the prayer for Rescue.
But I remain unsettled.
I think these things as the night slowly settles in…as my breath becomes mist before me and Jeff waves around his light in the dark.
I’m not sure why I did it…well, okay, maybe I am…but suddenly I got up and grabbed the rake out of the garage’s gaping mouth. Turning it on end, I wacked the soffit with the tip of its handle.
It felt good.
I heard a stirring, but still no bats.
I did it again.
I think you’re just scaring them, Jeff said. They’re not going to come out.
I couldn’t force this thing to happen. I let the rake fall. Stupid, benign…useless thing.
I am waiting for bats.
Among other things.
I know that eventually, with a great shiver, they will emerge from their hiding place—move in one wave across sky. And when they return they will find their home closed up, filled with foam insulation.
But until then, I just wait.
In the end, we might end up dismantling the whole blasted soffit, but things can’t stay this way much longer.
I will wait a little longer.
But not too much.
They say bat feces is toxic you know.
Will you celebrate with me the end of a season of waiting for my friend Faith Elaine? You can learn more about the release of her beautiful devotional book here. Elaine is a very special lady to me. Recently, when I posted this, this sweet lady immediately called me up and held my heart through the tantrum. She is the real thing. I just can’t wait to get a copy of that book in my hands!