Prairie Dogs, Dark Tunnels, and Door Mats

A week or two ago, I went to the post office to stock up on postage stamps.

(You did know, didn't you, that the cost for sending a birthday card to your friend is going to go up by five cents on January 27th, my mother's birthday?  It will be 55 cents from now on.)

Anyway, on the way, there is this spot on the prairie where there is a prairie dog town.

As we whizzed by, the prairie dogs stood by their holes and looked at us. But on the way back, when I slowed down to take a picture, they all scuttled away in a fright. 

Something seemed unusual to them about this vehicle slowing down near them.

Down they went, every last one of them nearby, into their dark and safe tunnels. 

Everywhere I looked, the prairie dogs had disappeared.

A verse from Job talks about trying to find God and feeling like He has disappeared.

I enjoyed seeing it recently in a different version:

"I go east, but He is not there.

I go west, but I cannot find Him.

I do not see Him in the north, for He is hidden.

I look to the south, but He is concealed.

But He knows where I am going.

And when He tests me, I will come out as pure as gold."

Job 23:8-10

I didn't know where those prairie dogs went, but I had to go on my own way--

down the road and back home--back to the testing ground of life.

When He has tried me, shall I come forth as gold?

Or do I just disappear myself into some dark tunnel that feels safe?

I've been going through one drawer, box, and pile after another this winter, 

sorting and filing and throwing away. 

One poem I found that I had saved from years ago spoke to my heart last night.

"That suffering had done a refining work on the poet is manifest in his beautiful poems, one of which is entitled, 'The Door Mat.'"  Here is the poem by Henry Suso.

The Door Mat

It was a winter morning in the days of old,

In his cell sat Father Henry, sorrowful and cold.

"O my Lord, I am weary," in his heart he spake,

"For my brethren scorn and hate me for Thy blessed sake.

"If I had but one to love me, that were joyful cheer--

One small work to make me sunshine through the darksome year!

But they mock me and despise me till my heart is stung--

Then my words are wild and bitter, tameless is my tongue."

Then the Lord said, "I am with thee; trust thyself to Me;

Open thou thy little casement; mark what thou shalt see."

Then a pitieous look and wistful Father Henry cast

Out into the dim, old cloister and the wintry blast.

Was it that a friend was coming by some angel led?

No! a great hound, wild and savage round the cloister sped,

Some old mat that lay forgotten seized he on his way--

Tore it, tossed it, dragged it wildly round the cloister gray.

"Lo, the hound is like thy brethren," spake the voice he knew.

"If thou art the mat, beloved, what hast thou to do?"

Meekly then went Father Henry and the mat he bear

To his little cell, to store it as jewel rare.

Many a winter and summer through those cloisters dim

Did he thenceforth walk rejoicing and the Lord with him.

And when bitter words would sting him, turned he to his cell, 

Took his mat and looked upon it saying, "All is well."

"He who is the least and lowest needs but low to lie;

Lord, I thank Thee and I praise Thee that the mat am I."

Then he wept, for in the stillness His beloved spake,

"Thus was I the least and lowest, gladly for thy sake.

Lo, My face to shame and spitting did I turn for thee;

If thou art the least and lowest, then remember Me."