And then there were bats…

A couple of weeks ago, a neighbor told me about the bats that were hanging from her stucco walls and leaving their droppings on her porch every night. I was thinking how lucky I was not to have this pesky problem. Imagine my dismay when I discovered bat droppings under the vitex tree in the courtyard a week later. And the next day, and the next…

I didn’t want to poison them. (A bat’s got to live, after all.) The general consensus among my neighbors was to add light to the area, so I ordered some hanging solar lights.

Now my courtyard looks like Christmas, and there are no more droppings. Thank you, my strange, winged friends, for bringing some holiday cheer a little early.

I must admit, though – the little darlings are much more charming in their absence.

December Light

Yesterday was the Second Sunday of Advent, so my husband lighted two candles after I read the prayer. In another week, he will light three candles, and finally during the last week of Advent, he will light four candles every evening until Christmas.

While the days are growing shorter and darker outside, the light is still increasing. Inside, my table-top trees light up the house. Outside, every evening more and more Christmas lights appear in the neighborhood. While we await the Nativity of Jesus once again, He is already here.

Even in the darkest days, there is always light.

There is always light.

Anthem

At the last light, well after sunset, a throng of wrens in the surrounding trees suddenly burst into song. I only see two or three of them during the day, but when they join together in the evening serenade, there must be hundreds of them hidden in the trees. They finally settle down when the light has completely faded. Then again, at the first light of dawn, the anthem begins again and continues until the sun has risen.

In the short life of a bird, I suppose the going and coming of the light is indeed a momentous thing. I need to learn from this.

Open and Closed

The blossoms on our ice plant, like those on many other plants, open to the sun and close when the sun passes. As human beings, we are so like that. We open to warmth and light and close in on ourselves when we don’t feel it from others. We are the light of the world, Christ said. How can I be warmth and light to someone today? How can I help someone blossom and grow today?

Veni, Creator Spiritus!

There is something about being in a garden that changes us. Whether or not we name it, we sense the presence of the Creator. It is as if there is a wonderful secret all around us that eludes our minds but speaks to our senses.

On this Solemnity of Pentecost, the poetic beauty of Psalm 104 glorifies the Creator and all of creation. Here are a few lines from the beginning of the Psalm:

"....O LORD my God, you are very great.
You are clothed with honor and majesty,
wrapped in light as with a garment.
You stretch out the heavens like a tent,
you set the beams of your chambers on the waters,
you make the clouds your chariot,
you ride on the wings of the wind,
you make the winds your messengers,
fire and flame your ministers...."
(Ps. 104: 1b-4, NRSV Catholic Ed.)

Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in us the fire of your love. Send forth your Spirit, and we shall be recreated, and you will renew the face of the earth! (Traditional Catholic Prayer)