I detest mice, but especially any mouse who attempts residence in my basement. Thankfully it’s not a common experience, but whenever I see a mouse scurry across the floor my heart stops. It takes a moment to regain my composure. Once I do, I set aside whatever I was working on and become Beowulf. I gather my battle-ready troops (the kids), travel to distant lands (Home Depot) in search of lethal weaponry (spring traps) and return to the field of combat (basement) fully armed.
One reason I hate mice is because it’s my basement; I didn’t invite Mickey to the party. That mouse has intruded occupied territory and resisting this insurgency is priority one.
These experiences remind me of poet George Herbert’s mole, a metaphor for God ability to find out sin in the darkest closet of our hearts. The Lord can expose those bosom sins through the use of metaphorical vermin.
So how do you keep the moles out?
Herbert says, keep the door wide open.
Here is George Herbert’s poem, Confession (1633).