Moses

I've been thinking about Moses lately.

Not the part of his life where he was miraculously saved as a baby in the bulrushes. Nor where he encountered the voice of of God at a supernaturally burning bush, or when he freed his enslaved people from the powerful empire of Egypt, complete with plagues and show-downs with the Pharaoh and parting seas. Not even the part where he wandered in the desert leading the grumbling Israelites.

No, I've been thinking about the part of his life that is all but missed when you read the narrative in Exodus. The part covered in the verse: During those many days the king of Egypt died, and the people of Israel groaned because of their slavery and cried out for help. Some scholars think those "many days" may have added up to forty years. In any case, it was a really long time.

I wonder what he was thinking.

I mean, there he was--a wealthy, educated, skilled, once-powerful, adopted son of Pharaoh--tending sheep. A fugitive from Egypt. Stripped of his power. Stripped of his royal identity. For years. And that whole time, the people of Israel were groaning in their enslavement and crying out for help.

His people were suffering, and he was hanging out in the desert with some sheep.

How did he react to that?

I wonder whether he strained against his shepherd role, restless to run back to Egypt--fugitive or not--and do something to help the Israelites.

I wonder whether he felt like his life in Pharaoh's house had been wasted, whether he questioned God: Why give me all that wealth and resources and powerful background only to put me out here with the sheep instead of letting me using those resources to save my people? Why send me out here when I had so much to offer there?

I wonder whether he sometimes enjoyed his new life--working outside, his wife, his children--and whether he ever felt a bit guilty about that, being aware of and apart from his people's misery, and not doing anything to free them.

I wonder whether he ever felt a bit...useless.

And I wonder if he was ashamed and rather surprised to see how fearfully reluctant he was when God finally gave him the command: "Yes, now is the time. Go rescue my people."

Perhaps he didn't think any of those things. But I think I would have if I were him.

Forty years is a long time to think. To wait.

Moses lived a lot of life before he became the venerable, bearded "Moses" [spoken in a deep, venerating voice] of Pharaoh-defying, sea-parting, Ten-Commandment-receiving, people-leading fame. He did a lot of shepherding first. A lot of waiting. A lot of living normal life with his job and his family. Maybe it was those forty years of quiet preparation which made it possible for God to use him so much and yet for him to remain humble about it. Maybe becoming a shepherd was what it took for Moses to see--even with all the great education and resources and authority he could have "offered" as a son of Pharaoh--that it was God and God alone who had the power and deserved the glory.

...I think we can learn a lot from Moses.

My new pet

Having a sourdough starter is like having a pet: you feed it every day, look after it, make sure it's warm enough and not sprouting unnatural growths... Of course, you do eat it eventually. But never all at once. So it doesn't really count as peticide. And cared-for ones can live for generations of human life. Don't you wish you could share pieces of your pet with your friends and still have a healthy creature to pass down to posterity?

I am expecting to make some very tasty sourdough bread by the end of the week. - sigh of happiness -

Disappointment

The thunderstorm faked us out. It made this big show about coming--everything got all still and muggy, the wind turned blustery, the clouds closed in, the air smelled fresh and anticipatory--and then it rained for maybe two minutes, lightning flashed once (which may have been my imagination, fueled by false hope (or residual head trauma)), and that was it. Then the air got all close and humid again. Sigh. Very disappointing.

Neighbors

So, I got to meet some new neighbors yesterday. I stepped out on my front porch to check how the hydrangea bushes are doing (beautifully, as far as I can tell), turned back around, and my door had gently swung itself shut. My automatically locking door.

As I stood their futilely attempting to turn the door handle, my thoughts ran something like this:

1. Keys? Right on the other side of the door. I can see them, but cannot reach them.

2. Windows? All the downstairs ones are latched.

3. A ha! I just gave my spare keys to Neighbors A two doors down!

4. Neighbors A, who are out of town. I know this because I'm watering their plants.

5. I'm watering their plants! I have their spare key! I can use it to get my spare from their house!

6. Their key is with my keys, right on the other side of the door.

7. Dumb despair.

8. Contemplating whether to go next door and introduce myself to Neighbor B, whom I haven't yet met, to ask if I can climb through her upstairs window onto the roof so I can try to break into my unlatched bedroom window....

At that point, Neighbor B comes out of her house on the way to her car. We exchange I-haven't-met-you-yet pleasantries, and I mention that I have locked myself out of my house. "Oh no!" says she. "And I don't have your spare, do I?"

"No," I say, "Neighbors A have my spare, but they're out of town. I know, because I'm watering their plants."

"Oh, I have a key to their house!" Hope blossoms. "Wait, no I don't. They have mine, but I don't have theirs." Hope dies.

- silence -

I'm about to resort to the window plan, when Neighbor B's face lights up. "Neighbor C has a key to Neighbor A's house!" I ask which one is Neighbor C's house, and she points to a woman also just coming out of her house, with a baby in her arms. Neighbor B calls across the street to Neighbor C that I'm on the way over, and I introduce myself to Neighbor C and explain the situation.

"Oh!" says Neighbor C. "Yes, I have their key. Hang on." She invites me in, where I chat with her baby while she rifles through a basket of keys and sundry items. "Here," she says, handing me three keys, "Two of these are to Neighbor A, and one is to Neighbor D. I'm not sure which are which, so just try them and see what works."

So I take the keys from Neighbor C and cross to Neighbor A's house. I try a couple of the keys, and success! I'm in Neighbor A's house. I then rifle through Neighbor A's basket of spare keys and sundry items (note: Neighbors A would be totally fine with this), and find my spare. I go to my house, open the door with the spare, fetch my keys, return my spare to Neighbor A's house, lock Neighbor A's house and return Neighbor A's and D's keys to Neighbor C, tell Neighbor B that her plan worked, and finally am back in my own house.

Whew.

That all ended up working out really well, too, because it gave me a natural way to ask Neighbor B if she would mind her indoor/outdoor cats wandering through my house occasionally to help scare away the mice. She was totally good with it.

I like my neighborhood.

I knew it was too good to last

I just had a mouse hop out of my dishwasher, run around on the kitchen floor, and hop back in. ...

I think I'm going to get a cat.