THANKFUL

 

There is no end to the enemies cunning ways; the devise schemes to destroy your precious ones—Psalm 83:3 (King Jimmy Translation).

Attack of the Pink Flamingos

“Revenge of the Aggie”

(part two of three)

 

They stood in silence, waiting for your humble Aggie scribe to emerge from my bungalow to retrieve the Sunday paper. Zoe, my schnauzer followed me outside. Her what-in-the-heck-is-this bark shattered the dawn’s silence. All twenty-five bright-pink flamingos stood at attention, greeting the sunrise. A four-foot sign placed under our oak tree stated: “Abundant Life Church Youth Group fundraiser”.

I laughed and shook my head. “I’ve been flamingoed,” I explained to my smiling neighbor, also getting his morning paper. He wandered over into the yard to check them out. I told about Carolyn and Tom being flamingoed last week and blaming me.

“Knowing you, I would have blamed you, too.” He laughed. “That’s something you would do.”

I immediately knew the culprit behind this act of vandalism in our peaceful neighborhood. My cell phone rang as I walked inside.

“Nah-nah-na-nah-nahhh, I got evennn,” Carolyn sang, like a first round loser on American Idol. Even holding the phone three meters away, I heard her distinctive I-was-born-and-raised-in-Oklahoma laughter.

Instead, I chose to take the high-road. “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,” I quoted to her in my self-righteous tone.

Carolyn scoffed at my religiosity. “You remember last week? Huh? Huh?”

“I told you before, Cupcake, that wasn’t me.”

“Yeah, you lie like a Persian rug, Jimmy Eskew!”

Even if I gave her indisputable proof I did not order the flamingos last week, she still would not believe me.

“I hope they charge you double the twenty-five-dollar removal fee.”

I conceded, just to quiet her laughter. “Okay, girl, you got me. See you at church.”

I called Mrs. Aggie. “Hey, babe, look out front. We got birda-fied overnight.”

In her half-awake stupor, she stepped out on the porch and shook her head. “I’m not cooking those for supper.” She shuffled inside and plopped into her recliner. “Get rid of ‘em. I don’t care how—just get rid of them. And why haven’t you brought my coffee yet?” (Mrs. Aggie is unsociable when she awakes to pink flamingos in her yard.)

Her demand annoyed me, but I showed her who’s on top of the pecking order. “Yes, dear.” I said, pouring her coffee. I’ve learned agreeing is the best way to respond to Mrs. Aggie’s fowl moods.

Later, I saw the youth pastor at church. He couldn’t hide his tickled-pink amusement at flamingoing our yard. He thanked me for supporting the mission trip as I surrendered the twenty-five-dollar ransom.

“They’ll be gone by tomorrow morning,” he said with a wink.

As I meditated during the service, I received a revelation as how to assure every penny of that twenty-five-dollar ransom was worth paying.

Several months back, a coworker snuck a twelve-inch rubber black widow spider into my truck. Upon discovery, and after changing clothes and checking my blood pressure, I rat-holed this “pants-changer” for future use. Its time had come.

The youth group’s positioning of the sign under the oak tree was perfect. I attached one end of ultra-thin fishing line to the top of the sign and the other end to the strategically placed “pants-changer” in the tree.

Field testing followed. When I moved the sign, the spider swung out of the tree, hitting me chest high. I adjusted the line, taking into consideration the average height of a flamingo-removing youth, the weight of the spider, and the projected wind speed at midnight. More field tests fine-tuned the spider’s sudden descent to land head-high on an unsuspecting youth. I struggled whether to repent for this act or wait and boast of the results on Facebook. That semester of “Swinging Objects from Trees 101” at A&M finally paid off. (I made a C+ in the course.)

Later, Mrs. Aggie and I awoke from terrifying screams and frantic, non-Sunday school words coming from the front yard. I sat up. The clock read 12:10 a.m. “Thank you, Jesus,” I whispered and laid down.

“You’re mean,” Mrs. Aggie said half asleep, pulling the covers over her head.

“Hummm.” I smiled and fell asleep.

Years later, those kids—now with kids of their own in the youth group—still laugh about that fun night that turned into terror but evolved into uncontrollable laughter.

Since Christ followers have the Holy Spirit living within us, we’re onto the devil’s rubber spider schemes, those hidden traps he sets hoping to disrupt our journey of faith. Our inner holy guide, the Holy Spirit, reminds us the devil is a defeated foe, and God’s protection is around us.

Twenty-five hundred years ago, the wicked Assyrians, who make ISIS look like a Cub Scout troop, attempted to exterminate God’s precious ones, Israel. God arose to Israel’s defense and strengthened the Israelites to defeat the Assyrians. That’s the same with the devil’s attacks against those who follow Christ. God enables us to stomp the devil like a spider.

I’m not saying that the devil’s surprises don’t sometimes scare the stuffing outta us, but we have this confidence that the Lord has our back, and can use every attack to mold us more into the image of Christ. Remember, the devil can only use rubber spiders.

Lord, may we not panic when assaulted when the devil throws rubber spiders at us. We trust that you have our backs and we need not worry. Open our spiritual eyes to see these attacks meant for harm become upward stepping stones in our walk of faith. In Jesus name. AMEN.

Stay close to Jesus.

Jimmy

P.S. I wanted to remove the flamingos, but Mrs. Aggie warned me how aggressive they were. Anyway, the E.R. doctor probably would not believe it got these hundreds of pecking wounds from pink flamingo yard ornaments.

Jimmy Eskew © 2017