How a Mouse Took Down A Giant

How does a mouse take down a giant, you ask? It doesn't. Not in the physical sense anyway. But two days ago, on a long walk with my wife, that's exactly what happened.

My wife and I typically go on a walk when she gets home from work, which is the same walk we've been doing for over a year now at our home in San Diego. Except, this walk was different. The path was the same, the pace the same too—it was me that was different. It was an exceptional day not because the sunset was beautiful, or the air was particularly fresh. I'm sure those things are true. No, it was exceptional because I was in an exceptionally negative mood.

I had been brooding all day, simmering in self-loathing, anger, fear, and anxiety. It seemed nothing was going right for me and I was out to prove it to myself and God. I am in the throws of being laid off a third time (which has been the subject of many of my blog posts as of late) and asking God why. Why is this happening yet again? Why can't I just have a good steady job and be relatively comfortable? I don't need to be rich, or even well-off, just to be able to pay our bills and have some peace is all I wanted.

As we walked, my wife said, "you wanna talk?"

"I was hoping you'd do most of the talking," I replied.

My mood was palpable and even the air around me felt heavy and drab. I was the quintessential application of misery loves company, and unfortunately, there was no one else around to gift my despair.

My wife tried to make small talk about her day and tried very hard to pivot around the awkward silence, but I was equally ambitious to maintain my gloom.

As we walked, all I could think was how hopeless our situation was. Why had God whom we loved and prayed to and learned about all these years seemingly abandoned us? What had I done wrong? Sure, I'm not perfect, but I was no murderer, nor bank robber. Surely, God must have turned his eyes from us for reasons I could not fathom.

As I was deep in the pit of my mind from which I was sure no rope would drop in for my rescue, my wife said, "what is that?" She was pointing down at the pavement with a perplexed look on her face.

Right there, smack dab in the middle of the path was a little... something. At first, we couldn't figure it out. Was it a mouse?  It didn't really look like a mouse. Was it a baby possum? Maybe?!

It sat there in the middle of the path shivering and not moving much. Wendy and I both looked at each other, hoping the other would know what to do. I admit a small wave of fear came over me. This little life had just become our responsibility. But to what end? What was the appropriate action from here?

No one was around, we could just put it in the bushes near the path.

No, that doesn't seem right.

We could wait for someone else to come and perhaps they'd know what to do. But... there was no one else around.

Then I remembered I was wearing a hat. We made a decision. We would take this little guy: opossum, mouse, mole, rat, whatever it was, and figure it out from there.

When we got home, I created a Tupperware haven for our new friend and fed him some water and some leaf lettuce, which he seemed amenable to.  A quick pedestrian search on Google confirmed that he was a field mouse. He definitely didn't look like a typical mouse—he had larger ears, a longer snout, and a much longer tail. He was adorable.



He didn't appear to have any injuries. Was he sick? Maybe he was just old and it was close to his time. Either way, we decided to take care of him for the night and I would take him to a wild animal sanctuary the next day.

All of that night, I checked on him and fed him and gave him water. I even set up a heating pad under his habitat to keep him warm.

The next day, I woke up and saw the Tupperware lid open and on the counter.

'OH NO!' I thought. Had he escaped? Well, at least he was feeling better, I suppose.

'DOUBLE OH NO!' Had the cats gotten to him?

As my heart pounded to match the pace of my frantic mind, I saw a note on the counter. It wasn't an escaped convict letter from the mouse—they haven't learned to write yet, at least, I don't think.

It was from my wife and she let me know that he had died in the night but that she was glad we could make him comfortable, even if just for a few hours.

Now, you all know I'm a big guy and to some even intimidating, but I tell ya, that morning, I wept for the little mouse.

Upon reflection of this entire event, I have found so many metaphors and parallels that it's not even funny. But one thing is for certain to me. This mouse was sent by God.

At no other time in my life have I seen a mouse, or any kind of animal suffering in the middle of a path that I'm headed down—suddenly being thrust into flight or fight mode. It's never happened. But on this day, one of the most morose days of my life, it did. Why?

Well, I'll tell you.

In many ways, that mouse was me; sad and suffering and scared. And then a friendly giant came to take care of him. God, I believe, was showing me that he is doing the same for me. I am that scared little mouse and if I have that much compassion for a little field mouse, how much more does God have for me? God is not going to find us in the middle of his path and toss us in the bushes. Our God is going to pick us up and take care of us, just as I did for that mouse.

God put that little mouse in my path that day. He made me stop thinking about myself and focus on the broader life around us all. It's not about me. That little mouse completely changed the direction of my thinking. In fact, I'm one-hundred percent positive that if we hadn't come across that mouse that day, I would have just kept walking with my head down and continued to wallow in my misery.

We all have GIANT problems in our lives and we easily forget that they are defeated through God's mercy and grace and faithfulness to us. I needed to be reminded that day that I'm not a mouse, and I'm not a giant, I'm a human being with whom God has promised eternal love, life, and forgiveness through his son, Jesus.

I write this today full of hope and new strength, thanks to our Holy Father.

And that is the story of how the mouse took down the giant.