The things you don't see

It's Sunday morning. We've called ourselves to worship, we've meeted and greeted, we've prayed, and now we're singing. At the moment, I'm playing mandolin and providing harmony vocals as we move through a rousing rendition of "Oh, How I Love Jesus."

But I feel like I'm being pestered by a fly. I feel it brush my cheek, and attempt to swipe it away (which is no easy feat, what with needing both hands to play mandolin). I feel it a second time, and swipe it away again - all the while looking around trying to figure out where it's coming from. I feel it again, this time on the other cheek - or is it two flies? Is the cologne I'm wearing somehow attractive to flies? Or is my hair gel full of Fly Pheromones? I feel it again, high on my cheek, and swipe it away, only this time I really get it, and feel it leaving my hand and heading for the floor.

Only when I look down to see if I killed it, it's not a fly that I see lying there. Instead, it's a rather creepy bulbous spider, scurrying quickly toward a jumble of sound cables.

It takes all of .05 seconds for my mind to move from "Wow! It was a spider!" to "Wait - was it alone? Or do I have a nest of spiders in my hair?" At which point (of course), the entirety of my head begins to itch and I can only surmise this spider must have had partners, who still currently reside somewhere in the vicinity of my face.

The problem being, I'm up on the platform, and can't start flailing around, attempting to clear out any other invaders. And I can't exactly rush from the stage without everybody noticing. So on the worship goes, with me attempting to discern whether every itch is just an itch, or whether other creatures are moseying around my head.

The moment the offertory began I quietly exited the room and headed to the men's room, where a thorough check in front of the mirror led me to the joyous conclusion that my face, scalp, and neck were, in fact, arachnid-free.

But, for some reason, I was a little "off my game" the rest of the morning. Just a little, distracted, I guess.

Life in Lakebay

Yesterday I sat in our Administrative Assistant's office, looking over some paperwork, when I was attacked by a bat. A little furry thing. But have you ever had a bat flying around your head in an enclosed place? Gave me the heebie-jeebies.

Said bat eventually ended up on the floor. I grabbed a pot from the kitchen and threw it over the bat. Then slid a piece of cardboard under the pot, trapping the bat inside the pot. Except when I went outside to release Mr. Bat, he was no longer in the pot. "Creepy," I thought. "I hope he's not a vampire who did his voodoo disappearing thing on me." I figured maybe he flew away so quickly I just didn't see him. (Side note: Why do I assume it was a male bat? I have no idea.)

20 minutes later I was in my office, working on an important letter preparing for a tough meeting, when the bat flew in and attacked me once again. No heebie-jeebies this time; just a case of the willies.

Once again, said bat ended up on the floor, once again I threw a pot over the bat, and then let him sit for 30 minutes to think about his actions.

Eventually, I found a flat piece of glass, like a small table-top, which I used to seal the bat inside the pot. Once again, I took the whole thing outside. This time, I pulled off the pot and the bat just sat their looking recalcitrant. I took him over and tossed him into a bush.

"There. Let that be a lesson to you."

Do other pastors ever have to battle wildlife in their offices?

Oh, by the way. I took a bike ride to clear my mind before the meeting, and I was attacked by a big black dog. I think nature is out to get me.