Playing ‘Possum
Although I live within ten miles of a monument to the lowly opossum, I have rarely had the occasion to see the critter closely until last week. My front palm trees are loaded with rain-swollen fruit that tempts animals from the nearby woods to steal and store for the winter. I say “tempts” because the price of that temptation is a confrontation with the farm dogs who lie in wait for the foragers to approach. This entertains the dogs for hours; they sprawl lazily across the grass coming briefly to attention from time to time. I can tell from their intent gaze where the intruder is, but they seldom actually score— until this week. A large, very confident opossum entered the joust in broad daylight and the younger dog Lucky prowled and pounced. Then it happened. The opossum played dead, went totally limp. Lucky growled and shook it. She dragged the opossum by the neck around the yard, then let go and paraded round and round her prey, sniffing ever closer. The opossum lay in the yard still and hopeless for hours. Lucky lost interest. Later in the day, the critter looked up, checked for danger and disappeared.
I guess the opossum has the innate awareness that at times the best defense is to do nothing and wait. That’s pretty hard for us. Psalm 46:10 hangs over my kitchen sink, “Be still and know that I am God” (NIV). I’ve never been too good at that. In my experience, if don’t fill the stillness with scripture or prayers, the worries flood in. The discipline of a God-quieted mind takes practice. Elijah sensed God in “a sound of gentle stillness” that moved him to cover his head (1 Kings 19:12 Cambridge Bible). Job records a voice from God out of the silence (4:16 NASB). How often have I missed God because I was too busy filling the void with my noise and my busyness? This past year, God has allowed several little issues to put me in my chair where He could get my attention. I’m grateful for those seasons. They have taught me I’ve got to be less like a squirrel and make like a ‘possum.
Oh, Lord. I need you. I want to hear you. I realize you won’t compete with clamor. Help me to be a good listener.
I too often are too busy to listen what God has to say. I need to be more attentive. Thank you for the reminder.
Love that story about the opossum, Luwanna. I need some of its patience to wait in stillness on God.