Perfect Peace -- Kirby Sword

When my parents called in the middle of the night because their furnace broke, Les went to help them. I felt a little pang of discomfort at being left alone. Well, to say I was alone isn't quite accurate -- both our young boys were upstairs asleep. Also, our fearless cockapoo, Tuesday, was snoozing outside.

Tuesday was a lovable dog, but she had no discernment. She greeted beggar and thief, as well as doctor and chief, with sloppy enthusiasm.

She also had what I thought was a strange defect for a dog. Her barker was broken. Seldom if ever did she gr-r-r or arf. That was until . . . The Night of the Broken Furnace.

Les was gone about an hour when the barking began. I was startled at the unfamiliar sound and thought it must be a stray. I peeked out cautiously. Tuesday was on our porch, arfing in the direction of the woods.

Oh, yes, did I mention we were living on a Boy Scout reservation containing six hundred acres of woods, swamps, lakes and assorted monsters? The latter was my immediate concern.

Stop and think about it. What else would cause a bow-wow's barker to suddenly kick in?

Tuesday began to run from the front door, to the back door, to the front again. I knew what this meant. Whatever was out there was closing in.

I crept out of bed and began to look for a weapon. I had always believed investing in the Kirby vacuum cleaner would one day pay off. This was the day.

I took the long nozzled tube section to bed with me for protection. I placed the telephone beside me with the phone book open to emergency numbers. My heart was thumping as I strained to hear sounds of the approaching monster.

With Kirby in hand, I rotated my vision from watching the window to the door, to the window to the door, when suddenly I turned my head too far and caught my reflection in the mirror.

You want to talk about frightening . . . no . . . make that ridiculous.

I said to myself, "What's wrong with this picture?"

I've known the Lord well enough and long enough to realize He wants to be my refuge and hiding place. Here I was, trying in my anemic strength to handle this imagined invasion.

I laid down my Kirby sword and picked up the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. I reviewed every peace and power promise I'd ever read. I'm not sure how long I'd been reading when fear started to drain out and quietness began to seep in, and I nodded off.

Soon I was sound asleep. I never heard my husband when he pulled up in front. I didn't hear him when he came in the door. I didn't even hear him when he entered our room. I didn't hear him until he shook my foot and asked, "What's the vacuum cleaner doing in bed with you?"
Caught with my sword down.

Are you armed or alarmed?

I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust."   Psalms 91:2

Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee. Trust ye in the LORD for ever: for in the LORD JEHOVAH is everlasting strength:"   Isaiah 26:3-4

[ by Patsy Clairmont, 'God Uses Cracked Pots' -- from Charlotte Harper ]


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