Not long after moving in, I heard something in our ceiling. Not on the roof where animals should be but inside between roof and sheetrock where only insulation should be.

We sealed the cracks. Set the traps. Stopped the pitter-patter. For a season.

I’ve been assured the solution is temporary at best. “They’ll figure something out,” a country friend confidently prophesied.

Living where coyotes and snakes and field mice roam freely means they set the rules. I’m the interloper.

Such reality calls for new behaviors. And new expectations.

I check for snakes before taking out the trash. I wear shoes on the porch where scorpions scoot. I set traps since Mickey and Minnie will undoubtedly return with their crew in the weeks ahead.

The Bible reminds us in Romans 7 of our inability to rid our lives of the stuff we don’t want in our lives. We can’t even get rid of it in ourselves.

“For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.”

Belittling others. Treating friends and family poorly. Engaging in addictive behaviors. Labeling people based on the color of their credit card or shade of their skin.

The Jesus-in-me knows that’s not the Jesus way. Jesus’ Spirit  convicts me even as the words leave or steps start. Sin’s DNA interwoven tightly with my best intentions.

Dare I just give up and give in? Absolutely not. The longer I’m in a relationship, the more I begin to value what she values, act like she acts, and look like she looks. 

The longer I’m in Christ, the more my behaviors and attitudes look like His. Because, frankly, it’s His Spirit shaping Him in me.

So daily I set the traps. Stifle the tongue. Note the triggers that tug me where I know I shouldn’t go. Give grace freely to all I meet.

But at the end of my imperfect day I rest in God’s grace for my imperfect life. Grace is what gets me through the mice.