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  • Sonya Leigh Anderson

Mouse or Mice


Photo by Giuseppe Martini on Unsplash


I was backing down my driveway this morning when I caught sight of the flowers on my porch. Rats. They needed water, but would have to wait. I already used my margin vacuuming the grass trail through the kitchen left by somebody’s soccer shoes. Driving toward church I had an idea. Maybe Siri could help. I held down the button and spoke into my phone. “Schedule a reminder for 3:30pm.” Siri responded. “What would you like to remember?” I grinned and answered. “Water plants.” Done. How cool is that? I wonder what else Siri can do for me?


I’ve had similar conversations with the Holy Spirit. Help me remember. I’m willing to confess I’m prone to forgetting.


Sometimes I feel guilty about owning a smart phone, not because it’s an outlandish extravagance (which it is) but because I utilize such a minuscule amount of it’s actual potential. This, I’m sure, could also be said of the Spirit.


Lately I’ve been feeling especially scattered. My bible study neighbors confirmed what I suspected – this might be a symptom of my season of life. (It often accompanies being hot and bothered.) Alas, if this were the ONLY complicating factor in my particular season.


The back-to-school start up always feels like mental ping-pong. At church and at home both. It takes a while to get into the rhythm of everything back up and running. All those commitments we make in the summer come back to bite us when reality hits. Usually by mid-October it’s back to normal, although I’m looking ahead at the next few weeks and there’s no guarantee.


This week I did something I’ve never done before. I hired help. Cleaning help, from my sixteen-year-old niece. She’s a PSEO student with Wednesday afternoons free, and she loves to clean things. She loves to clean things. Did you hear that boys? I told her I’d give her three teenaged boys worth of allowance money to help me out. Worth every penny.


One boy in particular (who shall remain nameless) is always loosing his stuff. He blames me. Mom, you’re always moving my things. This morning he blamed Kira for his missing soccer jacket. She must have cleaned it. If you saw the boy’s room you’d catch both the irony and the sheer frustration of these particular accusations. Goodness.


My husband right now is in the kitchen setting mousetraps. Droppings under the sink this morning. Another complication we face each fall. The boys were just recollecting at the dinner table earlier this week about the times they’ve heard Mom raise her voice. Mouse-sightings was an instance they mentioned. (Which led to an English lesson on the difference between mouse and mice. And a comment from Jimmy about “mice” sounding just like “that thing that kills bees.” Hmmm.)


And now. It’s after 10:30, which is well past my bedtime. If Felipe knew I was still up he’d say, “Mom, you should be in bed.” And I’d gladly agree.


I’m thankful tonight. It’s been a good day. Two wins in soccer. Sunshine. Grant home from Des Moines playing Settlers with Felipe and Dad at the kitchen table. No school tomorrow. Mousetraps set (thanks to Kyle). Flowers watered (thanks to Siri). House clean (thanks to Kira).


God is good.


Goodnight.

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