Mouse Tracks

When the snow falls fresh and heavy in the farmer's field, hundreds of unseen mouse houses are blanketed in mounds of soggy white stuff.

A first walk after the new snow has graced unclean land is full of mouse track moments. Moments of wonder and surprise and laughter come quickly as the resourceful determination of tiny rodents shows itself over miles and miles of critter-filled country.

Those country mice have chosen their homes carefully ~~ surrounded by unharvested stalks of grain, they burrow in the rich earth and in mounds of fallen straw. When the snow (which must seem a great avalanche to such wee mammals) smothers their nests, they expertly carve an escape hatch, nickel-sized in circumference, so that they can make their way to tasty feasts.

Leading from these tiny holes are dozens of teeny mouse footprints. Sometimes, it appears, the mice leap their way across the snow, leaving behind the imprint of their perfect front paws and chubby, ash-gray bellies. Other routes are covered in four-paw markings shooting off in all directions and ending up at different holes two or three feet from where their journey began.

Every time I see a new patch of mouse-y endeavor, an involuntary, out-loud laugh rises in me. I'm surprised, every time, by delight. For those moments in the walk, every care lifts from my heart and my mind and I am enchanted by the vibrancy and determination of God's creation. I don't care about household chores or bills or the state of Christianity or politics or world hunger or my pudgy tummy. In that moment, I laugh at the humor of God and the way He shows Himself in minute ways.

I pray for mouse track moments for my friends: moments of unhindered delight and girl-like giggles. Stumbling-on-the-glory-of-God moments. Moments of wonder at the life that is thriving, pulsing, giving in so many small ways.