FLIT, FLUTTER, FLAP or FLOAT

Thursday afternoon I heard some loud squawking down below my deck,  I  rushed to see what was going on and couldn't believe my eyes.  Hanging on the fence was a dead doe, head caught in the top wire of our barbed wire fence and all around her was a flock of enormous California condors, pecking her flesh and innards into shreds.  It was not a pretty sight. In fact it was downright horrifying! There were thirteen of them, probably weighing in at about twenty-five or thirty pounds each with a wing spread of five or six feet. I called our community firemen whose station is right below my house and within minutes three uniformed firemen came roaring up my driveway in two fully equipped fire trucks. As they got their first glimpse of the situation they were as stunned as I, for  none of us had ever seen a scene like this in Bear Valley.

Right now my mind is going back to Kenya,  East Africa when Ted and I watched with horror as several wildebeests and zebras disappeared down the gullets of twenty-foot crocodiles. In the Land Rover next to ours were National Geographic photographers,  taking pictures of the yearly migration of millions of wildebeests and zebras crossing the Mara River that divides Kenya from Tanzania.

 ...back to my front yard: The firemen grabbed their cameras and began to slowly make their way down the hill, not wanting to scare off the birds. The doe was already dead so there was no hurry. Before any of us could catch him, Bootsie,  one of my two cats ran down the hill to within a few feet of those huge birds, sat down and just stared at them. Can you believe that those giant birds panicked, and flew up into the oaks where they watched until my cat decided his mission was accomplished and sauntered back up the hill?  Lesson here: All we have to do when satan comes at us is stare him down and hit him with the Word of God!

The men dragged the carcass on down the hill so the coyotes and other varmints wouldn't come around in the night to scavenge. Now it is the morning after. I slept on my deck last night with no fear because Bootsie, my three-pound watch-cat was curled up right beside me.

Here comes another Bear Valley "first" for our family:  Last Monday night my daughter and her husband were sleeping soundly in their upstairs bedroom. Suddenly they heard a crash in their kitchen down below. Hurrying down the stairs, they found their cookie jar broken to pieces on the floor, cookies scattered everywhere and the cat food feeder empty. Out the broken screened window that he had entered went a bear! Ronni, their terrified dog had disappeared. A neighbor brought her back the next morning. I wonder if Bootsie would have stared him down? Probably not. Bears eat cats. Apparently California condors don't.

Now to explain the title of this week's blog:  "Flit, Flutter, Flap or Float":  I have flitted, fluttered and flapped much too much throughout my lifetime.  Now I am floating. One morning this week as I was hunkered down under my electric blanket on my deck bed (...and yes, I watched the Moon Show, face up.),  I awoke just in time to see the flitting bats calling it a night.  Next the fluttering sparrows woke up.  (Does God really care about those tiny, nondescript little birds?)  Soon they partied down on some branches where they would twitter at each other for the rest of the day. I stretched; Puss'n Boots sensed my stirring and proceeded to march all over my body, attempting to guilt-trip me into getting up to feed them. That didn't work,... so Bootsie crawled under the covers to nestle and purr.  Puss'n? Naw. He considers snuggling to be 'way beneath his "show cat" dignity.  Negative thoughts bombarded my mind so, like the crows,  I flapped  around in those awhile. I can't bring these negative thoughts into captivity unless You help me. Lord.  Next came Hootie, the resident owl,  gliding (floating) over my head on his way to bed.  Then came a red-tailed hawk, hitching a ride on a thermal, floating and watching for a hapless little creature that would be worth a plummet to the ground below.

Today I choose to float. Two dear woman from "down below" are coming.  Before they get here I want to listen to Hebrews 11 on  my smart phone. I like "The Message" even though some Christians look down their doctrinal noses at this folksy translation. I want to think about all the saints He speaks about in that chapter.  Maybe I too will see the shadowy skyline of the Holy City. ...that future City where Christ is King of Kings and Lord of Lords that gives hope to a world that has none.

                                           THE HOLY CITY
Last night I lay a sleeping; there came a dream so fair.
I stood in old Jerusalem beside the temple there.
I heard the children singing and ever as they sang
Methought the voice of angels from Heaven in answer rang.
Methought the voice of angels from Heaven in answer rang.

And then methought my dream was changed, the streets no longer rang.
Hushed were the glad Hosannas the little children sang.
The sun grew dark with mystery, the morn was cold and chill
As the shadow of a Cross arose upon a lonely hill.
As the shadow of a Cross arose upon a lonely hill.

And once again the scene was changed, new earth there seemed to be.
I saw the Holy City beside the tideless sea.
The Light of God was on its streets, the gates were opened wide
That all who would might enter, and would not be denied.
No need of moon or stars by night or sun to shine by day; 
It was the New Jerusalem that would not pass away.
It was the New Jerusalem that would not pass away!

JERUSALEM! JERUSALEM! SING FOR THE NIGHT IS O'ER
HOSANNA IN THE HIGHEST! HOSANNA FOREVERMORE!

Love,  Jo