Millie the Magnificent and Mighty: A Mouse Tale of Redemption

Once upon a time there lived a field mouse named Millie.  Millie was the youngest of 15, and the smallest.  She had exceptionally long whiskers, bright eyes, and a sleek tail.  Millie was proudest, however, of her strength.  Even though she was the smallest in her litter, she called herself Millie the Magnificent and Mighty, and she spent most of her days demonstrating her awesome abilities to anyone who was willing to admire them.

One hot summer day, Millie was decidedly disappointed with the lack of interest in her athletic prowess.  No one in Whiskerville was the least bit interested in the way she could scale the fence on the north edge of town or jump on and off the tree stumps in the park.  Millie ran laps around the pond, but no one wanted to race.  She did back flips along the stone wall at the south edge of town, but no one applauded.  Dejected and discouraged, Millie dreaded her return to the nest without having made any new conquests or achieving any new reason to boast. 

As the sun began to set, Millie began to make her way through the park.  Although there was no one to near, a careful ear would have heard her grumbling quietly to herself.  “I am the strongest mouse in Whiskerville.  I am the most special mouse my family has ever had.  I can do anything I want.  I am Millie the Magnificent and Mighty!”

The stars began to come out, and as Millie continued her hike home, she began to see lights from the human town on her left.  Millie had heard many warnings about humans—with their traps and their cats—from her parents, aunts and uncles, grand-parents, and great-grand-parents.  No one she knew had ever ventured through the woods and into that forbidden territory. 

That’s when Millie knew what she would do.  She would be not only the strongest mouse in Whiskerville; she would be the bravest.  She would dash through the woods, quietly enter the human world, and snatch something to bring back as a souvenir to prove that she was Millie the Magnificent and Mighty indeed.

The night was still as Millie sped through the forest and skipped on stones to cross a small creek.  Suddenly she found herself in a lovely place.  Soft green grass surrounded her.  Lamps on posts cast a glow along a red brick path.  Millie found herself hopping lightly along a path that was still warm from the afternoon sun. 

It was a beautiful place, and Millie began to think how foolish her friends and family were to avoid the habitations of people.  In her wonder, she even forgot about looking for a souvenir.  She was ready to explore.  Before long, she came to a silvery fence outlined by the light from the lamps.  Millie easily slipped through and found herself on a new, paler, rougher surface.  It wasn’t as nice as the path, but her attention was fixed on the shimmering lights just ahead.  She trotted ahead until she found herself at the edge of a beautiful, blue pool of water.  The lights of the lamps reflected on the water, dancing in its quiet movement.

Suddenly, Millie realized that she was hungry and thirsty.  The water looked so cool and clean that she decided that she just had to get a drink.  Moving to the edge, she leaned over only to find that she could not quite reach the water.  She reminded herself that though she was small she was magnificent and mighty; she stretched herself over the edge so that she could reach the water.

“Just a little more and I will reach the water.”  And with that thought, Millie lost her balance and slipped into the pool.  At first, Millie was not alarmed.  After all, she was a superb swimmer, and the pool wasn’t that large.  Before long, however, Millie realized that she wasn’t big enough and strong enough to pull herself out of the water, and she was becoming as tired as she was wet.

Paddling desperately around the pool, Millie came upon a small strange white object floating on the water.  Using the final shred of her energy, Millie rolled herself on top of the object and lay there gasping for air.  She was safe, for the moment, but she had no way to remove herself from her predicament. 

It was a long night for Millie.  She shivered with the cold until her fur dried.  She became hungrier and hungrier.  She thought about her family’s cozy nest and the neighborhood mouse games that she always rejected with disdain.  She was feeling anything but magnificent and mighty.

Finally, morning came and the sun rose, illuminating Millie stranded on her little white island in the middle of the pool.  Two dogs ran by, fortunately more interested in a squirrel in a tree than in her.  Millie used all her strength, but she just could not move her little boat closer to the edge of the pool.  She was stuck—a hungry, tired, and frightened little mouse.

And so she was when the human walked through the gate and started to work near the pool edge.  As she turned toward the water, the human noticed Millie perched on the pool thermometer.  She looked long and chuckled, much to Millie’s discomfort.  Before too long, the human went away and returned with a net on a long stick. Carefully and gently, she scooped up Millie and her leaf, walked to the creek, and deposited Millie on the other side with a soft plop.

Millie’s legs started to move the instant they hit the ground, and they didn’t stop until she was at home in the nest, munching on a berry before taking a long nap.  She never told anyone about her adventure, but she stopped calling herself Millie the Magnificent and Mighty.  Her family and the mice of Whiskerville began to call her Millie the Modest and Mild-Mannered.

And Millie lived merrily ever after.

                                          

A Life of Faith and Hope

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."

                                                                                                Hebrews 11:1

In a mother's womb were two babies.  One asked the other:  "Do you believe in life after delivery?" 

The other replied, "Why, of course.  There has to be something after delivery.  Maybe we are here to prepare ourselves for what we will be later.”  

"Nonsense," said the other.  "There is no life after delivery.  What would that life be?" 

"I don't know, but there will be more light than here.  Maybe we will walk with our legs and eat from our mouths."  

The other said,  "This is absurd!  Walking is impossible.  And eat with our mouths?  Ridiculous.  The umbilical cord supplies nutrition.  Life after delivery is to be excluded.  The umbilical cord is too short."

"I think there is something and maybe it's different than it is here," the other replied.  

"No one has ever come back from there.  Delivery is the end of life, and in the after-delivery it is nothing but darkness and anxiety, and it takes us nowhere."  

"Well, I don't know," said the other,  "but certainly we will see Mother and she will take care of us."  

"Mother??"  You believe in Mother?  Where is she now?”  

"She is all around us.  It is in her that we live.  Without her there would not be this world."  

"I don't see her, so it's only logical that she doesn't exist."  

To which the other replied, "Sometimes when you're in silence you can hear her, you can perceive her.  I believe there is a reality after delivery and we are here to prepare ourselves for that reality....”

                                                                            Author Unknown (looking!)


"Hope is one of the Theological virtues.  This means that a continual looking forward to the eternal world is not (as some modern people think) a form of escapism or wishful thinking, but one of the things a Christian is meant to do.  It does not mean that we are to leave the present world as it is.  If you read history you will find that the Christians who did most for the present world were just those who thought most of the next."
                                                                                                   C.S. Lewis

How Do Our Gardens Grow?

I read an essay recently that calls for all families in the United States to plant a vegetable garden.  The author argues that such an endeavor is good for the environment and good for us.  I have no doubt he is right, and I greatly appreciate my husband’s home-grown tomatoes.  But if I had to grow my own food, I would almost certainly starve.

I am not a gardener.  As much as I enjoy flowers and vegetables, I do not enjoy gardening. I am most grateful for the gracious help and advice of bona fide gardeners in my circle of friends.  In a recent conversation with one of them, she commented that the hard part of gardening is getting a flower or vegetable bed set up; then it can be enjoyed.  Yes, but…no garden will thrive without being tended.  Ken’s tomatoes need to be watered, tied as they grow, and scrutinized for insects and disease.  If I do not pinch off my spent pansy blooms, I will not get more.

The same is true for the garden of our spiritual lives.  The Apostle John records Jesus using the analogy of gardening to teach His disciples about their spiritual lives in the fifteenth chapter of his Gospel.  God desires His people to bear fruit for His kingdom.  And the foundation and lifeblood of that fruit is Christ Himself.  He is the vine.  We, as the branches, are able to bear fruit only as we abide in Jesus.

Although Jesus does the “heavy lifting” in our fruit bearing, Scripture makes it clear that we need to tend our spiritual garden.  Not only do we need to maintain an abiding relationship with Christ as the soil and water of our fruit-bearing faith, we need to fertilize that faith by keeping company with other believers (Heb. 10:25).  Studying and meditating on God’s Word keeps our focus on our source of power just as plants turn their leaves to absorb as much sunlight as possible (II Tim. 3:16).  Vigilance in weeding sin and temptation from our lives removes the obstacles that can derail our life of faith (Heb. 12:1). 

So what is a reluctant gardener to do?  I think we need to acknowledge an important truth.  While we live in a culture in which someone else grows most of our food, only we can bear the spiritual fruit that God has created us to bear.  That can, in our lazier or more selfish moments, seem like a burden.  I would comment, though, that it is precisely the bearing of fruit for God’s kingdom that gives us eternal significance.  We matter, to God and to others.  We don’t have to bear fruit; we get to bear fruit.  And it gets better.  We don’t have to settle for boring.  As we bear fruit together as His body, we get to produce a “fruit salad” that is as unique as we are.  That is Gardening for which I will gladly and gratefully sign up. 

The Gift of Friendship

“In friendship...we think we have chosen our peers. In reality a few years' difference in the dates of our births, a few more miles between certain houses, the choice of one university instead of another...the accident of a topic being raised or not raised at a first meeting--any of these chances might have kept us apart. But, for a Christian, there are, strictly speaking no chances. A secret master of ceremonies has been at work. Christ, who said to the disciples, "Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you," can truly say to every group of Christian friends, "Ye have not chosen one another but I have chosen you for one another." The friendship is not a reward for our discriminating and good taste in finding one another out. It is the instrument by which God reveals to each of us the beauties of others.” 

                                                                                     C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

The God of More Chances

Those of you who know my husband and me know that we are eagerly awaiting a new family member: an Australian Labradoodle puppy, expected to come home in the middle of June.  It was a long winter around here.  We lost our Standard Poodle prematurely, and the grey winter months often seemed to reflect my emotional state.  It was very, very hard to say good-bye to an extraordinary pet.  It was also difficult to acknowledge that while Daisy was truly extraordinary, she was also a considerable challenge.  Adopted by us at fourteen months, she came with a boatload of insecurities and bad habits.  Our best efforts at rehabilitation brought unremarkable results.  Thus the appeal of a puppy—we get another chance at raising a dog who will be an integral member of the family and a gracious hostess to guests.  Or, as my husband puts it, “Now we won’t have anyone to blame but ourselves.”

Do you remember the childhood practice of “do-overs?”  If something didn’t go quite right, or there was a disagreement over play protocol, a do-over was in order.  A do-over was a simple strategy to get something right.  But less simple is the powerful truth that underlies the do-over: second chances reflect who God is—His love and mercy, and His desire for our wholeness. 

God is a God of second chances; and third, and fourth…. When the Apostle Peter asked Jesus how many times he was supposed to forgive an offending brother and offered a generous proposal of seven times (Matthew 18:21), Jesus responded with His “seventy times seven” answer (Matthew 18:22).  Since we are sinners in a sinful world, we will need forgiveness, over and over.  As we walk in faith, we will be given the opportunity to forgive others, over and over. 

In my counseling ministry, I often suggest a do-over strategy for adults: the “instant un-replay.”  In our interactions with one another, we will invariably experience conflict born out of the sin and selfishness of ourselves and others.  Such conflicts, while unpleasant, offer us an opportunity to experience spiritual redemption and relational healing and growth.  Rather than running down an “I’m right/you’re wrong” track, we can ask for an instant un-replay.  We can humble ourselves and try again (and perhaps again) to communicate and receive communication in a way that promotes God’s work in us and through us.  Of course, an apology, when appropriate, is a great way to initiate an instant un-replay.

Receiving God’s extra chances and offering extra chances to others are powerful ways to experience and share the nature of God and reflect His redemptive work.  It also builds deep, trusting, intimate relationships that are deeply satisfying.  I, for one, need many chances, and I would be delighted to offer you the same.

Inside Out

One of the reasons I love fiction so much is that it can help me capture important truths in a memorable way that permanently changes my mind, heart, and perspective.  One of my favorite books is The Last Battle, by C.S. Lewis.  Many of you are familiar with this last book of the Narnia series, especially since the first three books of the series have been put on film. 

At the end of The Last Battle, friends of Narnia find themselves in a losing battle against their Calormene enemies.  Eventually they are thrown into a small, dark stable, presumably to be consumed by the Calormene god, Tash.  These characters are surprised to find themselves in an entirely new place, full of sunlight and fresh air.  They are met in this new place by old characters from other Narnia books—Digory and Polly, Peter, Edmund, and Lucy.  As they try to understand what has happened, they realize that the stable door through which they were thrown was not an end but a beginning. 

Tirian, the last King of Narnia, observes, “It seems, then, that the stable seen from within and the stable seen from without are two different places.”

Tirian is answered with this comment: “Yes, its inside is bigger than its outside.”

It is Lucy’s comment that is the most significant: “In our world too, a stable once had something inside it that was bigger than the whole world.”

It took an episode from the Dr. Who series to help me realize that this concept applies to people:  In the Dr. Who episode, a character asks the Doctor: “Is everyone like you, bigger on the inside than on the outside?”

Unfortunately, I believe the answer is, “No.”  The “size” of our “insides” depends on what is going on inside.  If we go about our days focused on ourselves and intent on earning or proving our worth and/or righteousness, our insides will shrink.  Likewise, if we choose the path of bitterness, if we make ourselves feel better at the expense of others, or if we excuse our bad attitude and behavior, we will become an empty shell of a person.

On the other hand, if we go about our days focused on our Lord and intent on following, pleasing, and glorifying Him, our insides will expand.  Likewise, if we practice forgiveness, encourage others for who they are in Christ, and humbly confess and repent when we are confronted by our sin, we will become like the stable—much bigger on the inside than on the outside.  May it be so.