Excerpt

Solutions and Cave-Ins
Don’t you love to hear the words, “I’ve got just the solution for your problem”? The word solution is full of promise; it lifts my spirit and renews my hope.

The problem I’m about to describe to you is admittedly not high on the scale of big-bigger-biggest, but it nevertheless was one for which I wanted a solution. And incidentally, any solution that comes packed with a few giggles is my favorite kind. So let me share it with you—who knows, maybe you’ve been looking for a solution for this very same problem.

Each spring I plant a gorgeous garden of flowers: petunias, snapdragons, and pansies (to name a few). I love my flowers. The problem is, so do the Texas neighborhood wild rabbits that appear out of nowhere! Shortly after my plantings (in each of the three years I’ve lived in Texas), the ravenous and relentless appetites of multiple rabbit families descend upon my garden and eat each little plant right down to the nubbins. Then they have the audacity to stand outside my window mouthing the words, “We’re still hungry.” So like any conscientious moron, I replant. Like any brilliant rabbit family who knows a moron when they see one, they again descend upon my new plantings, reducing them to “nubness.” For years I have been in need of a solution for my victimization.

Three weeks ago it happened: the solution. I was getting a haircut and complaining about the high cost of keeping the neighborhood rabbits fed. One of the women having a root touch-up turned from her magazine and said “I can tell you exactly how to get rid of your rabbits—human hair. They are repulsed by human hair. All you have to do is spread hair around the roots of your flowers. I promise they will flee.”

I looked at Natalie who was cutting my hair. It was 3:15 in the afternoon, so her wastebasket contained a day’s worth of hair. She stopped cutting, stared at me a moment, and then said, “You want it?” It seemed like such a “hairbrained” idea, but I loved the quirkiness of it—and of course, I was desperate. “Yeah, I really want it!” She grabbed a Wal-Mart bag out of her cupboard, dumped the hair supply into it, and within seconds I sailed out the door with a bag of rabbit solution. On the way home I started thinking about when I should do the hair sprinkling. I felt self-conscious about being seen crawling through my garden sifting wisps of hair around. I decided to wait until eight o’clock p.m. when I could do my work under the cover of approaching nightfall.

When I felt I had sufficient twilight, I started hairing up my backyard flower beds. I was surprised to find I soon lost enthusiasm for the project: my back hurt, my fingers lost “nimbility,” and the hair gave me the creeps. There was brown hair, black hair, blonde hair, grey hair (mine), and multicolored hair starting at the roots. By the time I reached the front yard I was eager to be finished and was no longer sifting the hair. I was dropping it about in clumps, which could be mistaken for poorly maintained little toupees.

I was nearly finished when a car approached my house going very slowly. I did not want to turn around...I did not want to be recognized. I continued dropping hair clumps. The car then pulled into my driveway. With the motor still running I heard the window lower and the familiar voice of my friend Luci Swindoll. Her words:

“What in the world are you doing? I drove over here to see why you are not answering your phone, and I see you hunkered down among your flowers with a Wal-Mart bag in your left hand, a rubber glove on your right hand, and you’re tossing something about.”

I rose up to my full height and told her what I’d learned about a rabbit solution (she too is plagued with hungry rabbits) and that I had a day’s hair supply given to me by Natalie when I got my hair cut that afternoon.

She stared wordlessly at me for at least a full minute. I figured she was thinking maybe the idea made sense and perhaps she’d better try it too. Instead, she leaned out the window and in a loud conspiratorial whisper said, “Marilyn, do you realize you are spreading the DNA of perfect strangers all over your property? I’m sure that’s not even moral! And not only that, what do you think the neighbors are thinking? You look as if you’re trying to destroy evidence from a crime scene!”

I accused her of watching too many episodes of CSI, but I took her up on the offer to go get a soy chai tea latte. Until that moment, it had not been a pleasant evening.

So here’s the proof the solution works: I have no more rabbits! I think they all scooted immediately over to Luci’s property where there continues to be good eating. What puzzles me, though, is that Luci refuses my hair solution. I got a new hairbag yesterday, which I offered to share. She says she cannot accept my offer because it would compromise her moral standards. Uh-huh!

Now this book is committed to providing solutions for problems far more serious than a band of marauding rabbits. Nevertheless, in a serious cave-in there may be a solution we’d never have considered simply because it falls under the category of “hairbrained.”

In all reverence, I think many of God’s solutions seem hairbrained. To name a few: How about Jonah being swallowed by a whale and left in its belly until Jonah repents of his disobedience? That confession is celebrated by the most significant vomit session in human history. Or the drama of the walls of Jericho, which crashed after a divinely synchronized yell from the Israelites. And then there’s God’s beloved prophet Hosea who was instructed to go out and find a wife; the one requirement for that wife was she must be a prostitute.

These seemingly hairbrained directives from God get my attention, delight my soul, and upon careful study inspire my faith. They also inspire me to think outside the box regarding a search for cave-in solutions.

I’m totally committed to the reality that many of our cave-in solutions lie in the realm of how we think about them. I need to determine if what looks and feels like a cave in really is one or is merely the presence of pesky rabbits. We need to avoid “awful-izing” what is happening to us. That’s best accomplished by levelheaded thinking. What we think can totally skew reality.

Excerpted from What To Do When The Roof Caves In © 2009 by Marilyn Meberg. Published in Nashville, Tennessee. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.