Not long after moving into this little house under the willow tree, I discovered we weren't the only occupants. A banging noise in the night got me out of bed. Why I did this alone, I'm not sure; but I went into the kitchen and turned on the porch light while sweeping aside the back door curtain. There were probably six raccoons on our porch helping themselves to the dogs' food. We were keeping it in a sturdy tin with a lid even I had trouble lifting off. Together, however, the raccoons had managed. I called for my husband, who by that time only reported three raccoons still clinging to the food and the porch they conquered. We now keep the dog food inside. The last time I spotted these little thieves they were slipping through our front yard like stealthy commandos while our pets dozed in the sun. It's no wonder God gave them their own little burglar's masks.
Life is simpler now that we've been foreclosed on. We have less possessions to maintain. The stuff just doesn't fit in this house. Rain on moving day took care of some of our things and garage sale thieves took others. We have what we need. I no longer have to be afraid to answer the phone or hide from the collector who used to stomp up my front steps and tape notices to the door. The endless stream of paperwork required by the bank did come to an end. We are out of debt. Credit card offers no longer fill up our mailbox. We live closer together. My computer is set up near the front door and the pets appreciate having such personal door service. My husband enjoys my nearness when he sees a great football play on TV. God remains good. He will one day restore what the locusts have taken, on this side of eternity or the next.
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