Good Lord, Deliver Us

This is probably not about what you think it's going to be about.  It's not about politics, or sin (at least I don't think it will be).  It's not about the 'heartbreak of psoriasis' or the horror of getting old, though I love what Bette Davis said about getting old.  "Getting old," she is reported to have said, " ain't for sissies!"  And the older I get, the more I see the wisdom in that statement!

No, ever since I wrote about my "dislikes" in this blog's profile, that old quote has been going around and around in my mind: "From ghosties and ghoulies, and long-leggity beasties, and things that go bump in the night, Good Lord, deliver us!"  I always thought it was a quote from Robert Burns, even though I first read it in James Thurber, but I looked it up today, and it was attributed to "Traditional Scottish Prayer" and the like.  Whoever thought it up, it is as charming as it is true.  If in the garden of Eden God put an enmity between woman and the serpent, He also put one between "long-leggity beasties" and woman as well, I feel.  Well, probably not just woman, either.  I doubt many men are charmed by them, but their dislike is overcome by their desire to rescue us, I suspect, or to look brave in front of us, perhaps.

I am afraid of snakes, but I can run from them, lickety split, and have done so many times.  But a large spider or centipede or millipede, and I'm just as likely to freeze in terror, unable to move, breaking out in a sweat, and may even get light headed.  Just don't like 'em, no, no way, no siree.

I find it interesting that God put in me such a strong desire to not only be in full-time Christian Service, but to be in foreign missionary service, and then to call me to a nice warm tropical place where bugs thrive.  Nice big ones, and yet I have this passionate fear of bugs, most all bugs.

When, after nurses training, I entered Bible College, the women's dormitory was quite an old, old building.  A tad decrepit, even, in places.  All the buildings bordered on pretty old and in need of some sprucing up, but it was a small school with excellent professors, and that seemed more important than some other things in the final analysis.  I still think so.  It's good toughening up for foreign missions! :)  Another good preparation was that they were infested with these disgusting light colored millipedes or silverfish, whatever they were, WAAAAAY larger than any of that breed should ever be.  My memory may be mistaken, but I feel certain some were at least 2 inches long.  And fast.  And UGLY.  I get a bit weak thinking about them to this day, and surely nothing prepared me for the day I woke to find one of the monsters on my wall next to my head  on my pillow. I've always been very slow to wake up and get moving in the morning, but I was out of that bed like a shot, had the Raid in my hands, and sprayed the horrible squirming, running thing in seconds.  It was so big I heard it hit a piece of paper on my floor when it fell off the wall.  I never found it...but I never looked too hard, either.

I do wonder a bit, truly, that God called me to be a missionary on an off shore island of Haiti called La Gonave.  You know, I found the insects there truly amazing.  I suppose many of the same are found in any warm place.  Florida and the southern US has what they call "Palmetto Bugs", but don't con me.  This is a rather quaint misnomer for the American Cockroach, as big as your thumb, not afraid of the light, and it flies.  It is not easily intimidated, is nearly impossible to kill, runs TOWARD you instead of away, and may not bite, but will nip lovingly on you.  It scorns your flyswatter, drinks insecticide for afternoon tea, and laughs at your fear. They thrived where I lived in Haiti, and it mattered not how clean you were.  In addition there were dreadful giant centipedes, biting ants, huge spiders...everything, you can imagine, that I detested with a passion.  We only had electricity, supplied by our generator, until 10 PM, so after that, to me, were the devil's hours.  Lighting a kerosene lamp, our source of light, or flashlight, only made a target for moths and other larger flying horrors.  I was ecstatic when an occasional gecko got in the house, knowing it would eat insects.  Also, I thought they were cute, a bonus.

When I was in Haiti a few months, I sent my mother pictures of my home.  It was a modest little cinder block house, and the interior walls as well as the exterior walls had large windows to ensure good ventilation. To discourage thieves, there were iron bars on all the outside windows, and screens that were holey, but not in the sacred sense. Most of the holes I covered with duct tape.  My mother wrote back that she got the pics, but only had one question: "WHY is there a can of Raid in EVERY ROOM?"  She was so naive. 

I never got over my phobia very well in my years living on La Gonave.  There were times I had periods of courage.  I woke one night to feel something scurrying quickly up my left leg.  Now, this could only be a monster cockroach   Palmetto Bug.  I grabbed it with my hand and threw it to the floor with all my might, hoping this would kill it, and forced myself to forget how huge it felt in my hand, forcing myself to sleep.

A few hours later I woke to use the bathroom, and with the flashlight, took a cautious look at the floor next to my bed.  Yes, there it was, a Palmetto bug, motionless on its back. I was certain it wasn't dead, but on its back it couldn't chase me.  I went to do my duty, and when I returned, I shined my flash carefully to make sure the devil hadn't flipped on me.  There, next to it, was something long and thin, about 8 or 10 inches long.  With a shudder, I realized it was a giant centipede, and it had the cockroa...uh, Palmetto Bug in its mouth!  These centipedes sting, it hurts, and they are fast and ugly as death.  I shuddered, sweat, prayed, grabbed my trusty Raid, and SPRAYED!!!  I'll spare you the writhing, the scurrying, the convulsions, the trembling -- and you should have seen what the CENTIPEDE was doing!  It finally died about 3 feet from the bed under a chair.  I prayed, thanking God, and laid down. Then turned on my flash -- yes, it was still dead under the chair.  I settled in the bed again...up again with the flash.  Yep, still dead.  A few more repetitions, and I knew I would get no sleep with that particular "beastie" in the corner.

"Oristiel!  ORISTIEL!"  Sometimes it was hard to wake my night watchman who swore he never slept a wink at night.  "Oui, Mis?"  I explained my battle with the beastie, and Oristiel came in with his machete to dispose of yet another "bet", as they were called.  It was a common nighttime chore for him, to dispose of my bug bodies, or dispatch scorpions for me, etc.  He removed it, and I told him NO WAY would I be able to sleep anymore tonight, now that there had been a centipede in my bedroom."Oh, Mis," he said tolerantly, "God will show you if there are any more in here!"   "Oristiel, I don't WISH God to show any more to me.  I wish for God to make sure there are none here!"

Yet, for all my Raid and bug phobias, and Oristiel's attempts at comfort ("Mis, don't worry about this little scorpion here in your shower!  You should have seen the one I killed on your front porch last week!"), I think he had and has a much healthier view of things.  Bugs are a natural part of life on La Gonave, and it was perfectly reasonable for him to suggest that it was enough to God to show them to me rather than keep them from me completely.  We don't become strong in life by avoiding all kinds of troubles, we become strong by dealing with our troubles and, with God's help, overcoming them.  Oristiel understood that so much better than I did.

I'm going to love telling you stories about my friendship with Oristiel.