Lizard Wars and the Comfort of God's Presence

 I was sitting at my kitchen table when a movement caught my eye. I thought I was alone in the house, but apparently, I wasn’t. 

The movement—just a flash in my peripheral vision—made my heart thump. 

Small. 

Fast. 

With a tail. 

Oh, Lord, please don’t let it be a mouse. 

We had a mouse years before. I didn’t want to repeat that sequence of events. There’s nothing creepier than sharing your living space with a rodent. 

Rising slowly, I crept to the doorway and looked down the hall, dreading what I might see. Two shiny eyes stared back at me. 

LIZARD! 

I screamed. The lizard probably did, too, if lizards can scream, but I was making too much noise to notice. 

In a scramble that would have made the Three Stooges proud, we both ran toward the kitchen. The lizard scurried under the refrigerator, and I leaped onto a chair. 

Although I couldn’t see it, at least I knew where it was—for now. The only thing worse than having a lizard under your refrigerator is having a lizard loose in your house. I knew, for the moment, we were okay, but if it emerged and went somewhere else in the house, I probably wouldn't track it down for days. 

With one eye on the refrigerator, I pulled out the largest stainless-steel bowl I owned. I crept to the fridge, flipped the bowl upside down, and waited. I didn’t want to hurt the lizard. I just wanted to detain it until my husband, David, got home. Then he could take it outside and release it. 

Poised like a cat stalking a mouse, I held my breath. Every few minutes the lizard would poke its head out then retreat under the appliance. I knew timing was everything. If I slammed the bowl down too soon, I could hurt the lizard or send it off in another direction. 

About the time my arms started shaking and the bowl wobbled, the lizard’s head emerged from under the fridge. I saw its arms next, then its torso. When the tip of its tail cleared the fridge, I slammed down the bowl as fast and hard as I could. 

Success! Checking the circumference of the bowl to be sure I hadn’t amputated any lizard limbs, I sighed with relief. 

Thank you, Lord. 

I stacked a 5-lb. bag of flour on top of the bowl, just to be sure the little reptile didn’t escape, and waited for David to arrive. When he did, I explained in graphic detail every moment of the hunt, then finished with a burst. 

“Now you have to take over, because I don’t ever want to look at that creepy thing again. Please take it outside and let it go far, far away from the house.” 

Then I left the room. 

Minutes later he appeared in the doorway. 

“Did you let it go?” 

“Not exactly.” 

“What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?” 

“Well,” he said, not making eye contact. “It didn’t make it.” 

“Oh no!” I said. “Did I squish it? I tried really hard not to hurt it.” 

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “There wasn’t a mark on it.” 

“Then what happened?” 

“I think it died of a heart attack. You probably scared it to death.” 

The feeling is mutual, I thought, with only a twinge of remorse. 

Unlike my friend Linnea, who occasionally finds a bear on her screened porch or a porcupine up her tree, I don’t encounter wildlife very often. A wayward lizard, a tree frog, or a mole is about as exotic as my animal encounters go. Regardless, they unsettle me. I’d much prefer to let my husband handle my critter problems. 

Sometimes, however, he’s not around, and I must take matters into my own hands. Or wait until he returns home. 

I’m so glad God is available 24/7. 

Scripture tells me He’s always with me. I don’t have to wait for him to arrive or make an appointment to request His help. 

I don’t have to exhaust all other options before I cry out to Him. No heavenly triage nurse compares my needs against others’ and places me in the queue. Even if a million other voices come to Him in prayer, He still hears my request. 

Isaiah 65:24 reminds me, “Before they call I will answer; while they are still speaking I will hear.” 

God’s omnipresence doesn’t release me from seeking wise counsel and taking appropriate action, but it gives me a reliable source of insight, comfort, and strength. When I go to God first, He equips me to face whatever comes my way. Even when I must fight the battle on my own, like that day with the lizard, I’m never truly alone. 

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” Psalm 23:4 reminds me, “I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” 

I don’t know what you’re facing today, but God does. He’s as close as a prayer and eager to help. 

Cry out to Him today. 

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Refresh Your Faith contains 66 culturally relevant, story-driven devotions, one from each book of the Bible. Each real-life story spotlights an unusual verse or Bible passage that you may have overlooked in your usual Bible reading. Lori Hatcher challenges you with additional features like an uncommon thought to ponder; an unusual faith action step; and an unfamiliar passage suggestion for additional Bible reading.

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