The Friday before last I saw a beaver (even though I didn't know it until a week later). It was upside down and it had claws and it scared me. The flash of the image lasted about a split second right after I had closed my eyes to go to sleep and I prayed in the name of Jesus for it to leave me and this house. 

I made a pact with myself that after my last long-winded Facebook post that I was not going to be so dramatic this time around no matter what platform I post on, but I already feel challenged. 1). A housemate that I've grown to love is getting married this weekend and therefore moving out in less than a week 2). I've done things like lost an invoice only later to find that I had put it in the refrigerator 3). I'm trying to read a Mark Twain book that looks like Goliath next to the YA book about unicorns that I want to read 4). ...about the beaver... (Is that the title of a Mel Gibson movie??)

The Friday before last, I wasn't sure what I had done by posting so vulnerably on Facebook. Later on in the day, though, I felt slightly empowered and brave. I went to the gym. I broke a sweat. I came home and my housemate was on the couch in serious pain. 

She had been feverish, tired, achey for the last few days and she was worse. In my "I can do anything" state and "I don't want you to feel isolated and like you have the plague" state, I asked her if I could pray for her. I took a deep breath (near her); I laid my hand on her head that was a little sweaty. I prayed a short prayer and then I walked as quickly as I could to the kitchen sink to wash my hands telling Jesus I now knew why I had never had children ---because I couldn't handle it. I felt like a complete hypocrite. 

Her symptoms were weird and our neighborhood has been weird the last few weeks. Two of my friends' car engines have blown on the highway on two separate days which means everyone is borrowing everyone's else cars and Jackie would get a little bit better than slammed with another massive wave of sickness. Something felt spiritual about the whole thing. Like a rabid animal had attacked. Ultimately, she ended up in the hospital for a few days with viral meningitis and it was scary.

I wanted Erica not to get it before her wedding. I wanted bleach; I wanted Lysol. I wanted any household cleaner that didn't have the word 'natural' in its description. I WANTED OUR WASHER TO WORK AGAIN. I went to the laundry mat with Jackie's clothes and bedding, every towel and bath mat in the house, and all of my clothes. A guy in there looks at my nine loads and says, 'Looks like you need some help.' And I did. I loaded the trash bags of wet clothes in my car (our dryer works), shut the hatchback, and realized that I did need help. Not with the chores, but from my fears.

The laundry mat is near Woodruff Place, an old historic neighborhood where I used to live, and I decided to go on a walk because I like the old trees. I was so thankful that it was cold. In fact, I would have been fine to have lived that week with all the windows open in the house and I did work with my office window cracked.

Before I moved into this house over a year ago, I was sick often. A season of lots of medical tests that led to nothing. I had insomnia, my stomach and adrenals would get out of whack, I lost weight. It didn't take much to throw my health off balance. I realized that I had a deep fear of being sick again. That I didn't trust my body to repair itself even though I'm at the point where I'm running again, sleeping well, and eating anything I want for the most part without much repercussion.

On that walk, there were several birds out. They were loud and singing and I found myself kind of quietly singing too. Somewhat from the attitude that even when all hell seems to be breaking loose, you can always choose to worship. Most of the time, I can't make a sound even when I want to during those states, but somehow, the mob of birds made the stories about seraphim and angels that I had just read make more sense and I found myself not worrying so much. I knew Jackie was going to be helped and okay. I knew Erica was going to be okay. I knew this house was going to be okay. And, I felt a little less guilty for being self-absorbed and fearing touching doorknobs for the week.

A few days after Jackie was home from the hospital, I sat by her on the couch and we decided to watch a Netflix documentary. She put on an episode of "Taboo" which had people skinning each other and chopping off each other's heads. (After being sick, you really don't want to watch this). Then, she asked me if I wanted to watch this one on 'beavers.' She put it on and I about threw the computer because I realized then that it was the animal that I had seen that Friday night. I hadn't told anyone about that 'flash' or vision --or whatever you want to call it.

She told me that during a prophetic game in church where we were supposed to 'blindly' tell someone what animal that they reminded us of that she was given the animal, 'beaver.'

I do NOT like those games. We had to do them sometimes when I was in the Indianapolis School of Supernatural Ministry and I hated them because I don't like being put on the spot, I don't necessarily believe that God likes to work that way, I never got any words or pictures for anyone, and I always felt like I was making something up. I was (and still am) a bad sport about them, but that word that she got meant something to her that day. 

She only made it through a few minutes of the documentary before she was tired and went to bed, but I watched the whole thing. That documentary was so convincing that I almost want a beaver as a pet. Most of all, I was caught that ponds retain more water where beavers live because they dig the bottoms. They dig; the pond gets deeper and holds more water; less water evaporates. I realized that this is what Jackie does in relationships. She's a listener and a good counselor. She likes to be with people and to know them. Therefore, people are drawn to the places she's at, they stick around, and more people are drawn in. 

This was a random way for me to realize this, but I'm thankful. I'm thankful that I get to live with her. More than anything, I'm so thankful that she's well. Living communally with meningitis taught me a lesson. 

So here's to the upcoming week and me finishing my taxes and maybe reopening a business account. Praying that information doesn't end up in the refrigerator as well.

Laura GueninComment