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Sunday, 8 July 2012


Every night at dusk, the bats come out. 

Come out from where? Not sure and not sure I want to know. Quite possibly from the barn at the back, but I’ve never seen them roosting there (is that the right word even? – roosting?). There is something kind of fun about watching them whiz past the window, but then again, something very creepy about them.

Once, a few years ago, we were redecorating and the back door was slightly open. One bat zipped into the house and despite my best efforts with the broom, eluded us. We opened windows and thought probably he/she found a way out. But no.

A few days later the bat reappeared in the living room. Two grown up sons and I chased it round the room, watching it spread its wings and claw its way up a curtain. Twice it was nearly trapped but suddenly escaped, but at last one son managed to catch it in a bucket and release it outdoors again.

I’ve got nothing against bats in theory. I quite like them whizzing round outside eating the pesky midgies.
But I don’t want them crawling up my curtains.

To everything a time and a place. 

I have to confess, there are a couple of people in my life who are a bit like bats. They’re fine when they are whizzing round doing life outside of my zone. Not so happy when they get into my space.

I think the Lord has a lot of work to do in me. Grace is sometimes hard to come by.

Help, Lord.

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