I don’t really believe in talent. I mean, of course, we can marvel at a person’s aptitude for a particular task. But I’m convinced that what makes someone excel at
The heavens declare the glory
Of Him who made all things;
Each day repeats the story,
Each night its tribute brings.
To earth's remotest border
His mighty power is known;
I live in a subtropical climate. It’s snaky here most of the year, so you have to keep your dogs clear of places where they might have a lethal encounter. Like, for example, your own back yard. So I keep a big sign on my back door with this from MBE: "The serpent of God’s creating is neither subtle nor poisonous, but is a wise idea, charming in its adroitness, for Love’s ideas are subject to the Mind which forms them, — the power which changeth the serpent into a staff." Nonetheless, several nights ago, one dog and I stepped out the back door and into a scary encounter with a couple of copperheads. (Yup, it's mating season.) Only once before have we ever had such a close call. That time, I was on a business trip, and the dogs were home with a sitter. On my trip, someone publicly attacked me in a meeting. An intense, vicious, verbal attack – the only time anything like that has ever happened to me professionally. Later I found out that, back home, at exactly the same moment, a water moccasin almost got one of my dogs. The dog sitter saved the day. So the other night, after chasing the copperheads out of the yard, my first thought was – what’s really going on here? Is someone hating me? And the answer was: yes. Just a few hours earlier, a family member who’s been under a lot of stress about another family member’s health had sent me about 36” of texts. In them he was disagreeing about health care decisions in quite a hateful way. And – not so funny – this family member has always reminded me of an aggressive, poisonous snake. So I grabbed Psalm 91 right quick, and spent some delicious time in prayer. In which, of course, the snaky family member was revealed as a saint. The next morning, he texted to say that he’d come down with a stomach flu. That afternoon, he texted again to say that after this “purgative” experience, he’s no longer insisting on any of the positions he took in the 36” of texts. So now I’m working directly with the health care professionals, who say they’ll come up with “out of the box” solutions to meet our loved one’s needs. All’s well that ends well -- thanks to “the power which changeth the serpent into a staff.”
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