The other night there was a mouse stuck in my window well. It seems that my window well is an animal trap, it’s caught and killed a mouse, and a baby bull snake, and it’s captured many beetles, a frog and a particular mouse that has led me to write this post. The other one has caught beetles and a baby rattle snake. I don’t open the windows because I’m afraid of what might sneak in them. And I just learned something, the singing group known as the Beatles spells it differently than the bug beetles. Spell Check told me. Hmmm, thank you technology for teaching me something today.
Anyway, the window well is about five feet deep and is right next to my bed. Right now it contains the frog and several beetles, giant beetles with red on their backs, like a black widow, but fatter, not as deadly, but just as gross. The frogs name is Wilbur. He’s the only thing that’s been in the window well that I welcome and that I’ve named. My sister Lexi and I were thinking of names and both thought of Wilbur at the same time. So that’s his name, and he’s my friend. He likes to dig holes and bury himself. I’m not sure if he’s suicidal, bored, or hibernating. Maybe he’s just a weirdo. Maybe being in a window well has driven him mad. Maybe he doesn’t like the name Wilbur. Maybe I should have named him Jeremiah.
Anyways, this post is supposed to be about the mouse, not Wilbur. So one night there was a mouse in the window, the kind with the big feet and a long tail and that jumps a lot. He looks like he belongs in Australia, not in Colorado, and resembles a kangaroo without the pouch or pointy ears. He was pretty cute, but I didn’t like him. He kept jumping at my window and freaking me out every five minutes. Every time he jumped at the window I think he gave himself brain damage and I was hoping he would stop before he killed himself. He wasn’t stopping, and he was keeping me up with the sound of his little body and head hitting the window every five minutes. I decided he needed out of the window well. I watched him for a while while I decided on the best way to get him out without touching him or letting him into my house. He tried to climb out of the well in three different areas. First, he would try to climb the metal wall on the side opposite the window. Then he would run to the corner by the window and try to climb up that. Then he would run and jump to the window, balance on the ledge there, and try to jump through the invisible force field into the house. Then he would fall off the ledge and go back to Plan A. He did this several times. Needless to say, his attempts were fruitless.
I enlisted my brother and went outside to help fulfill my plan. Jason helped me lift the covering of the window well off and searched for a red strappy thing that we use to strap things onto our car, namely our Christmas tree every December. We found one that would be long enough and lowered it into the hole. I figured his ancestors have been climbing ropes for centuries. That’s how the plauge came to Europe, the mice and rats climbed the ropes onto the trade ships and migrated. If they could climb a rope onto a boat and not fall off and drown, he could most certainly climb the strap out of the window well. We don’t have a real rope, so I decided the strap would have to do. He was afraid at first of the strap and didn’t move for a while. Then he tried to get out again in the same ways before the rope was lowered.
I saw the strap move a couple of times, but he just landed on it when he fell off the window ledge. I watched him run to his three areas over and over again, thinking, “No, go to the strap. Use the strap, that’s why it’s there! You can do it, just climb the strap out!” He didn’t catch on. Then I decided the strap was probably too smooth and his fat hands couldn’t hold on to the smooth threads that wove together to make the strap. So I went back to the garage in search for something that would be tall enough to reach up and out of the well, that had a rough texture that he would be able to climb out. I couldn’t find anything, so I lowered the hose. It was a little bumpy, more so than the strap. I secured it so it wouldn’t fall in while he was climbing it with two giant rocks that definitely weighed more than him. And if this didn’t work, at least some water would drain out of the end of it so he could have a drink of water.
The mouse soon stopped jumping into the window, or I was just too tired to freak out every time, and I fell asleep. When I woke up the next morning, he was still in the hole, even though I had provided him two escape routes. So later that day, my mom put a ladder down the well and went in with shoes that covered her feet, jeans, and gloves to get him out. She was successful, and she got him out, he didn’t even try to resist or run away. She took him to where he would be safe-ish, away from the where the two outside cats like to chill.
Anyway, the point of all this is what I learned from it. While it was running around and jumping onto one of it’s three escape routes, I had provided one that would actually work. Both of my exits reached the top and would hold his weight while he climbed out. I’m not sure he could hold on to either material without sliding back down, but I’ve seen a mouse climb a brick wall, so I think he could have done it. For the purpose of the moral, let’s say my plan was perfect. All he had to do was realize it.
As I sat, watching him struggle, I realized that this is how God feels sometimes with me. God provides a way to do something, to get out, a way to obey Him, whatever. But like a stupid mouse, I run around trying my three things over and over. God watches me and says, “No, I’ve provided a way, you’re doing it wrong, that’s the wrong way!” and I still don’t get it.
1 Nephi 3:7 I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.
He will always provide a way for us to obey Him, and just because I don’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there. Just because I don’t understand what He expects of me, doesn’t mean that He hasn’t prepared a way. And just because it’s not the way that I would do it doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Like the mouse, I have little eyes. He can see the whole picture. He is smarter than I am. He’s always right, His way is always better. It’s THE way and it’s the perfect way.
Now there is a big ugly bug flying around in the other window well, smashing himself into the window. I thing the Ugly Bug Ball must be happening and the ugly bugs are flocking towards the light emanating from my window. I think I should cancel their party by turning off my light, so this is all for tonight. Go away ugly bugs. Go to the other window well so Wilbur/Jeremiah can have something to eat!
