My Sorrow, when she's here with me,

Thinks these dark days of autumn rain

Are beautiful as days can be;

She loves the bare, the withered tree;

She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.

She talks and I am fain to list:

She's glad the birds are gone away,

She's glad her simple worsted gray

Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,

The faded earth, the heavy sky,

The beauties she so truly sees,

She thinks I have no eye for these,

And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know

The love of bare November days

Before the coming of the snow,

But it were vain to tell her so,

And they are better for her praise.

–Robert Frost

For a slight departure, a more comical post than normal. *

*at the time there was not much humor involved.

Picture it: A quiet Tuesday evening staying at Kerilyn's house while she's on vacation. I've just polished off an evening snack (the first carton ice cream I've eaten in forever), and I've decided to do something constructive, like wash laundry. So I gather up all the clothes I'd been piling in a corner of the bathroom, for want of a laundry basket, and head for the washer (which is just adjacent to the kitchen). I'm nervous.

Flashback: about 10 minutes or so earlier I'd spotted a roach–no one should question Keri's house hygiene, its swampland in Florida, and we had a hurricane like storm the night before that would make El Nino blush. The roach stood there, mocking me. Taunting me. I grabbed a cup and slowly approached it [again, please note the courage] but it slyly ran into the dark crevice beside the oven. Right beside the Laundry room. One must keep in mind for the rest of the story that I detest roaches. I fear them. They terrorize me. I have and would rather let a boa constrictor dance around my neck, then a roach get near my shoe. Its just that simple, I fear them. It stems back to my childhood when one jumped on my back, and refused to be dislodged, no matter how many laps around the house I did. It was a bad day.

Back to the Present. I decide to defy my fear and start a load of laundry with the full knowledge that the chances of the roach being in the same room with me are about 70%. I put the load in, and there out of the corner of my eye I spot it. It runs in the crack between the dryer and the wall where the Ironing board is stowed. I decide to go look for some raid. Keri either has a soft spot for insects, or is really good at hiding chemicals for when the toddlers (and occasional house-sitter) drop by. The raid is nowhere to be found. So I see the bottle of oust in the cupboard above the dryer. I begin to Oust the area into a dense fog, akin to your average New England port at dawn.

Eventually the roach ends up in a basket of crisp, clean, folded laundry Keri had left on the dryer. "Great", I think to myself. I try to fog it out with the oust, but to no avail. At last an idea strikes. Making for certain that the roach is still on the basket, with one fell swoop I grab the basket and set it outside on the air conditioner hub.

Now I can't just leave Keri's clean laundry outside to face what could become another storm gale, so I go back into the kitchen, grab a pair of tongs, find a broom, and with oust in hand head back to the battle.

Not knowing for sure if the roach has rooted deeper in the pile of clothes, I begin to deftly pick up each article of clothing (be it blouse, sundress, skirt, or shorts) with my pair of tongs and shake it with a vigorous movement until a point at which I'm certain the average roach would have lost hold. All the while bathing the clean clothes in a thick mist of oust. After each article meets my approval, I deposit it back in the house, and head out to the thick of the fight. I'm only hoping that the neighbors on campus are in bed by now, and aren't watching the man outside in the yard wildly flailing women's clothing held from the end of a pair of tongs. Finally after what seemed to be the eternal pile of clothing came to its end I grabbed the basket, gave it a few kicks with my foot, sprayed the last of the oust on it, and took it back inside. The roach had left. I had won. With a great sense of accomplishment I write these words.

I conquered the roach.

I heard this song over a year ago, but recently listened to it again, and have listenend to it many times over the past couple of months. It has become one of the most powerful songs in my life. I want the last part to truly become my heart's prayer. Hope it impacts you the way it has me.

I Corinthians 3:18


Charlie Was A Fool
Did You Hear What He Went And Did?
He Quit His Job, Threw It Away
Gave His Life To A Bunch Of Kids
He Said He Was In Love With Jesus
But His Friends Didn't Understand
He Could've Had It All
But He Just Smiled And Said
That He Already Did.


He Saw The Big In The Small
He Saw The Beauty In The Call
Even When No One Else Approved
He Took The Job Only A Fool Would Do.


Sarah Was A Beauty Queen
Miss Something Or Another
She Took Off Her Crown
Rolled Up Her Sleeves
Gave Her Life In A Mission To Others
She Said She Was In Love With Jesus
But Her Friends Called Her A Fool
They Said She'd Never Find Happiness
She Just Looked At Them And Smiled
And Said She Already Did.


She Saw The Big In The Small
She Saw The Beauty In The Call
Even When No One Else Approved
She Took The Job Only A Fool Would Do.


The Way Of The World, It May Look Wise
The Way Of The Truth Is To Realize
Wisdom Will Only Come Through
To Those Who Are Only The Fool.


Show Me The Big In The Small
Show Me The Beauty In The Call
Show Me The Road That I Should Chose
I'll Take The Job Only A Fool Could Do.


Show Me The Big In The Small
Show Me The Wonder Of My Call
Even When No One Else Approves
I'll Take The Job For Only A Fool
Only A Fool, Only A Fool.


Listen to Geoff Moore's Only A Fool

Adoration in the Darkness

When the Night, tossing and turning,

In its bed of velvet black,

Awakes in flashing glory

And the thunder answers back,

When the stars have gladly fallen

Down between the billowed clouds

And slept their fill, their cradles rocked

By Blowing whitened sounds.

When the sun is still afraid to rare its

Haughty head of day

And the rain is playing hide and seek

Above the rolling waves,

When the wind is singing softly in

Some mournful minor key

And an orchestra of hollow trees

Has trembled gradually,

It is now that I will still myself

And listen with my heart

To what I know I've heard before

Yet rarely taken part.

Now the thunder claps the time to

What will grow to be a song

Of Creation sounding praises

Of their God, and then the throng

That gathered here to hear it

Will cry aloud as one

Worthy is the Lamb of God

And Honor to the Son

All Power be to Him, alone,

That sits upon the throne

All Glory, His Eternal,

And His it shall remain

Forever captive in His love

And His Eternal reign.

When the song has softly faded

In the whispers of the waves

I will watch the dying darkness

And anticipate the Day,

For I know with Dawn comes Sunset

And the Dusk is sure to bring

A myriad of praises

With the night, sung to my King.

17 August 2009

Travis Shillington