If Clement Moore wrote a poem about our house…

There was (and may still be) a mouse in our house. Yesterday, Karla found a recently deceased furry creature in our basement storage area when she went to retrieve some Christmas decorations. Apparently, if Clement Moore was writing a poem for the Prince home this Christmas season, it would have read:

Twas three weeks before Christmas and all through our house,
Not a creature was stirring, especially not that dead mouse.
Rob will be hung by the chimney by his beak,
If another mouse shows up by the end of the week.

You get the idea. The thought of a mouse that may or may not be in our house has made for a spouse with no visions of sugar plums dancing in her head. It’s more like nightmares of Willard the Rat seeking his revenge. I tried to convince my bride that there probably weren’t any more mice in our house. “Our dead furry friend probably died of loneliness,” I told her. “The solitude killed him. Poor lil’ guy.” She wasn’t buying it. She thinks mice are like socks, shoes and Bartlett fruit—they come in pairs (or pears).

In order to ease her mind, I bought a four pack of mouse traps that I promptly stationed around the storage area—just in case. If there is a second mouse, he will soon join his friend in mousy heaven. There is a side of me that hopes there is a second mouse in the house and that he stumbles upon the trap, so I can say: “Mission Accomplished. We got ‘em! We can sleep easy tonight.” If the traps stay empty, with every noise and every clatter, Karla will be kicking me out of the bed to see what is the matter. There won’t be many long winter’s naps even if mama is in her kerchief and I in my cap.

Here’s why I share my mouse/house/spouse woes: It is so easy to worry over imagined threats—on issues much bigger than a mouse in the house. I heard someone say that 90% of the things we worry about never happen. I don’t know if that percentage is true or not, but I do know it’s a waste of time to worry. Jesus said so: Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? (Matthew 6:27). Worrying about what might or could happen is like waiting for a mouse, only you’re the one stuck in the trap.

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