A co-worker and I were just talking about fears one recent night. She shared what she was afraid of. I smugly told her there really wasn’t much of anything I feared, as I had God on my side. I should know by now that pride, even when masked by giving God glory is still pride and God really doesn’t like pride….

My husband and I bought an old one-room schoolhouse and added on. It’s in the late stages of finishing. My husband works out of town during the week. I’m alone with the cat. I got home this particular night at my usual time, about 12:30 a.m. Thankful for a good week and a really good night, I met my cat at the door and petted her for only a little bit before changing clothes and praising God. I thanked Him for working in my life and the life of my co-worker friend.

Then I walked out of my room to go to the kitchen for some cat food for the cat and a glass of milk for me. On the way, I paused to turn on my reading lamp in the living room.

What was that?!?!?

In the corner of my eye, something BIG flew by. Yikes! A bat!

“O.K., Lord, yes, I am afraid of something: bats!”

Terror gripped me with its icy cold fingers, dropping my heart to my feet, freezing me where I stood. Horrified, I watched the bat zoom from one corner of the living room to the other. “This cannot be,” I thought unreasonably. “Alan Funt, where’s the camera?” No. The bat was real, as was my sudden terror. After a long day and week at work, I wanted nothing better than to curl up and sleep, but that was not to be.

Just then, the bat zoomed right towards me, even though I stood right by the light. Memories of Dracula movies and of real bat bite/rabies stories flooded my brain, sending me into complete PANIC!

I screamed, arms shielding my head, body ducking out of the bat’s path. My ferocious, bug-eating feline huntress cowered in the corner.

Frantically, I looked for something bat-like to defend myself with. All I could find was an old barn board shelf not yet hung on the wall. I swung with all I had as the bat came at me again. I screamed and screamed as the end of the shelf gave way as I swung, splintering wood everywhere. I bawled. Like Don Knotts in The Ghost and Mr. Chicken, my hands shook uncontrollably, my knees knocked, my eyes popped out of my head, my heart pounded visibly out of my chest. God showed me my giant: a….little……brown……bat…… Oh, but he was huge by that time! In my mind’s eye, I saw a bat with a 7’ wingspan, a bat the likes a Tara dactyl would be afraid to face!

This is ridiculous, I thought. My panic was not helping me at all!

“Jesus, please calm me down and tell me what to do! Please help me with this! Please, please, please, please,” I begged through my sobs.

My cat, Melody, was on her own, as she had rabies shots and I did not. Armed with only a flashlight, I ran into the attached garage to look for our fish net. I searched aisle after aisle, looking up and down, back and forth, but found none.

Momentarily, I entertained the thought of retrieving the cat and spending the night in my car. But NO! This was my house and I had a warm bed. I was not going to leave my house just because a bat was in it. So, without a net, I returned into the house, knowing I had to face this bat. When I returned, I found no bat, no cat. Then I saw both in the dark dining room, just beyond the pale glow of the lamp of the living room. Melody, my 6#, 2-year-old calico, capitulated from cowering as the bat swooped at her to her best Sugar Ray Leonard impression of jumping to her hind feet and throwing a one-two punch as the bat flew away.

The Lord gave me distance from the situation and comic relief with my cat’s reaction. He gave me clarity to think through a game plan on how to get rid of this bat. I knew I would have to spend the rest of the nighttime hours with this bat in the house, as the fish net remained elusive. The Lord gave me calming nerves and clarity of vision.

I turned off the lamp in the living room and turned on all the lights in my bedroom, walk-in closet, and private bathroom. As we had recently moved and the house was not finished, we lacked interior doors to all but the main bathroom. I was not about to close the cat and myself in that room when I had a comfortable bed to lie in. With all of the lights on in my complex, the bat could have the remainder of the darkened house for the rest of the night. I prayed to God to please calm me enough to be able to sleep. He did and I was able to sleep a little the rest of the night, even though all the lights were on.

At 8 a.m., I groggily got out of bed, knowing that, with daylight, the bat would be nestled in for his daytime sleep. But where? We still had a ton of boxes and he could be anywhere!

As I shut off lights and slowly walked through the house, I looked in corners and gingerly pulled back curtains. I didn’t see him. I had to find him. I did not want a repeat of last night and had to leave in a few hours to go out of town for the weekend. I did not want to return to a bat in the house. So, I prayed, “Please, Lord, help me find this bat! Please, please, please, Lord!” Immediately, I was drawn to a little nook, ten feet high, between the wall and the exposed chimney. I had to get a flashlight and make sure the little brown spot I saw wedged into the crevice between the drywall and chimney was indeed the bat. It was, peacefully snoozing upside down, only his little noggin exposed.

“Thank you, Lord,” I whooped, raising my arms and dancing in circles.

Then I got busy, moving furniture and setting up a ladder. I found my husband’s welding gloves, a plastic grocery bag, the elusive fish net, and a paint stir stick.

I climbed up the ladder, gloves on, bag over my left hand, stir stick in my right. The bat looked so small from the ground. As I climbed, he grew. Heart pounding, I climbed shakily back down. Three more times, I prayed for courage and climbed back up. Three more times, heart ready to burst from my chest, I retreated. I could NOT do this! What if he woke up and started flying again? What if I freaked out and fell as he flew at my face and bit me? What then? I could lie dying while the bat ran loose to bite and terrorize me.

“Quit being such a girlie-girl,” I chastised myself. I called the neighbor across the street. “Red’s gone, for about an hour,” Geri informed me. I continued to call neighbors and friends. I got answering machine after answering machine. Finally, my ex-neighbor, Pete, answered. After I explained the situation, he laughed, “I’ll be right over.”

When Pete came just a few minutes later, I met him at the door fully equipped with my bat-catching regalia. I showed him where the bat was, explaining my game plan: I’d climb the ladder, coaxing the bat out with my stir stick and catching him with my bag. Pete was to stand by with the fish net in case the bat flew.

Shaking his head, Pete asked, “How in the world did you find him up there? I can barely see him, even with the flashlight!”

Grinning, I pointed to the sky and replied, “I called to the only One Who could help me and He did!”

I climbed the ladder a fourth time, gloves on, bag over left hand, stick in right. I took a deep breath. With the stick, I nudged behind him. With my bagged hand, I grabbed at him. Grabbing the bat with welding gloves on was like grabbing a cotton ball with a catcher’s mitt on. He flew past my hands and head, and then flopped to the floor. Melody pounced. I screamed, “No, Melody!” Pete yelled, “There he is!” The bat, still groggy from sleep, was momentarily stunned. I hurried down the ladder. Pete and Melody stood clear.

“As far as bats go, Donna, this one is BIG,” Pete vindicated me.

“Stay put, my little chickadee,” I purred to the bat, who was no longer a threat. I grabbed over where it lay, wrapping the bag over the cotton ball-like creature, unable to feel whether I’d enclosed him in the bag or not. When my bagged hand retreated from the floor, the bat was gone and I knew I had him in the bag. Quickly, I trotted across the dining room and kitchen to the front door, cooing at him the entire time, “It’s O.K., little guy, I won’t hurt you.” I took him outside, as far out in the yard as I could, and released him from the bag. He lay stunned for just a moment, then flew off.

“Yeah, God! Thank you, Lord!” I threw up my arms and praised God, relieved He helped me free the bat. Not only did He help me free the bat, but He calmed me and guided me on what to do every step of the way. Praise God!

Our house is unfinished. Fall is coming. The likelihood of bats and mice appearing is imminent. I know with God by my side, I can face them. I also keep the fish net and welding gloves handy now……J