For it is the second mouse that gets the cheese.
For it is the second mouse that gets the cheese. I have no clue as to what prompted Sir Winston Churchill to utter those words. And I had no clue that I was going to meet the second mouse.
When one is entrenched deep within one’s personal little maze, one doesn’t always know the intricacies of that entrenching environment. There I was, typically entrenched. About 7:00 p.m. The Kinship Region 2 Vespers was scheduled to begin at 7:30. I was stuck at a traffic light. Looking in the review mirror, I flinched just a little as I saw one of those big, pregnant, brown mouses barreling towards me. At the last moment, it veered to my right, to the right turn lane, and scampered around the corner. And as I looked ahead, more were aiming at me in pairs, then in single file, again in pairs. Aiming right for me, then quickly veering to their left and scampering off to my right. Big, brown, pregnant mice. As in the advertising slogan, “What can Brown do for you?”
Hordes of big, brown mice. Mice that had scurried just hours before, into the mazes of the Washington-Baltimore corridor, laden with the widgets of the workplaces from the where-with-alls from around world. And now, scurrying back to their nest, re-loaded with more widgets of the workplaces for the where-with-alls of the world. For the UPS distribution center was just off to my right.
Vespers was an entrenching experience. A young man, so seasoned in the ways of the world, telling of his experience as a mouse in a maze. His elusive search for the cheese.
He had let it be know to the Region Coordinator, that he was shy, that he was hesitant to tell his story. And as the moments went by without his arrival, it was not hard to become a believer in his assessment.
But there were terrible thunderstorms going through the Metro area. His “chauffeur” had difficulty getting him there.
Quickly he launched into his vespers program. A planned program of chained proof texts on the fundamental Seventh-day Adventist beliefs. But the Kinship Coordinator whispered to him to at least introduce himself. That some there might not know who he is.
And for the next hour he did.
The story of a mouse. A maze. Of cheese.
The telling of incidents. Of misunderstandings, of rejection, of freedom, of bondage, of lifestyle, of pain, of trouble, of the law. Of chemical substances and the substance of the mind.
He spoke with joy, with enthusiasm, optimism. Laughter came so easily. Yet the circumstances of his life are frightening.
He told of his experience with the SDA fundamental belief number 30: Your guardian angel is prohibited from accompanying you into the salons of seduction and sedition of the supposedly salacious sallies of the satisfaction of sin.
And he conceded his belief in that principle. But he shared with us that angels fear to tread where the Holy Spirit is free to go.
And the Holy Spirit found him bombed in the best of the gay bars in town.
He described himself as a mouse in a maze. The cheese, always being so elusive.
But, Adam, my new young friend . . . you exuberantly told us tonight that you have indeed found The Cheese. And you confessed to us the miracle of your still being alive. For by all logic and circumstances, the alley-ways in your maze should have consumed you. Some cheese-laden trap should have sprung for you long ago.
And as I had previously patiently waited and watched those big, brown mice, scurrying through the entrenchment of my little oblivious maze back at that UPS distribution point, I had no idea what was about to come.
For I have now met a most beautiful second mouse.
The Refectory Manager
When one is entrenched deep within one’s personal little maze, one doesn’t always know the intricacies of that entrenching environment. There I was, typically entrenched. About 7:00 p.m. The Kinship Region 2 Vespers was scheduled to begin at 7:30. I was stuck at a traffic light. Looking in the review mirror, I flinched just a little as I saw one of those big, pregnant, brown mouses barreling towards me. At the last moment, it veered to my right, to the right turn lane, and scampered around the corner. And as I looked ahead, more were aiming at me in pairs, then in single file, again in pairs. Aiming right for me, then quickly veering to their left and scampering off to my right. Big, brown, pregnant mice. As in the advertising slogan, “What can Brown do for you?”
Hordes of big, brown mice. Mice that had scurried just hours before, into the mazes of the Washington-Baltimore corridor, laden with the widgets of the workplaces from the where-with-alls from around world. And now, scurrying back to their nest, re-loaded with more widgets of the workplaces for the where-with-alls of the world. For the UPS distribution center was just off to my right.
Vespers was an entrenching experience. A young man, so seasoned in the ways of the world, telling of his experience as a mouse in a maze. His elusive search for the cheese.
He had let it be know to the Region Coordinator, that he was shy, that he was hesitant to tell his story. And as the moments went by without his arrival, it was not hard to become a believer in his assessment.
But there were terrible thunderstorms going through the Metro area. His “chauffeur” had difficulty getting him there.
Quickly he launched into his vespers program. A planned program of chained proof texts on the fundamental Seventh-day Adventist beliefs. But the Kinship Coordinator whispered to him to at least introduce himself. That some there might not know who he is.
And for the next hour he did.
The story of a mouse. A maze. Of cheese.
The telling of incidents. Of misunderstandings, of rejection, of freedom, of bondage, of lifestyle, of pain, of trouble, of the law. Of chemical substances and the substance of the mind.
He spoke with joy, with enthusiasm, optimism. Laughter came so easily. Yet the circumstances of his life are frightening.
He told of his experience with the SDA fundamental belief number 30: Your guardian angel is prohibited from accompanying you into the salons of seduction and sedition of the supposedly salacious sallies of the satisfaction of sin.
And he conceded his belief in that principle. But he shared with us that angels fear to tread where the Holy Spirit is free to go.
And the Holy Spirit found him bombed in the best of the gay bars in town.
He described himself as a mouse in a maze. The cheese, always being so elusive.
But, Adam, my new young friend . . . you exuberantly told us tonight that you have indeed found The Cheese. And you confessed to us the miracle of your still being alive. For by all logic and circumstances, the alley-ways in your maze should have consumed you. Some cheese-laden trap should have sprung for you long ago.
And as I had previously patiently waited and watched those big, brown mice, scurrying through the entrenchment of my little oblivious maze back at that UPS distribution point, I had no idea what was about to come.
For I have now met a most beautiful second mouse.
The Refectory Manager
posted by The Refectory Manager | 11:29 PM
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