Bedbugs for Jesus!

Most of you probably know that I run an outdoor services business in the summertime. It supplements teaching income heavily and it makes the summers fly by. It also gives us lots of great stories and encounters with fascinating clients.

Within the last few days, I received a call from a man around age 60. He lives with his 87-year-old mother, and their home had become infested with bedbugs. His call was to ask if I would be able to haul away the beds and other soft furniture that had become infested.

Well, I really didn't want to do this job for fear of introducing bedbugs into my home. But then I began to consider it from a Christian worldview perspective. What would Jesus do in this situation? I decided that He would help the outcast, especially the outcast humbly seeking assistance. And in our society, someone with a bedbug infestation is about as outcast as I've recently seen. So I told the gentleman that I would indeed help him with his dilemma.

Yesterday afternoon he called to say that the exterminator had been through and had identified the pieces slated for destruction. The exterminator said I should go to Fleet Farm and pick up stretch wrap for the mattresses and other furniture to be dumped. Apparently that keeps the bedbugs contained, though my stretch-wrapping abilities would leave that in doubt. I was also to get two cans of bedbug spray for the old man and his ancient mother to use while waiting for the professionals.

So I raced down to Fleet Farm after spending too much time trying to take down an apple tree in Northern Heights (chain saw broke during the effort... wasn't even my chainsaw... long story there... the owner of the apple tree happened to be a retired physics professor and so the two of us tore open the smoking chainsaw to see what be the matter...) and a wonderfully kind and practical young woman helped me find both the stretch wrap and the bedbug spray -- who knew Fleet Farm carried bedbug spray???

I raced back up to the bedbug hideaway and met the owners. Mom was a shockingly spry 87 who seemed more like early 70s, maybe. The son was a friendly if portly fellow who had broken his shoulder which resulted in surgery that made him unable to carry anything of significance-- except himself.

As it was getting close to 5:00 p.m., I introduced myself, changed into clothes that could be burned without any tears from me, and began the removal process. Zach arrived a few minutes later and we crammed and jammed through two mattresses, two box springs, and miscellaneous other stuff. At 4:57, I acknowledged that there was no way in **** or anywhere else that we were going to get this stuff to the dump. The thought was terrifying to me, because, what do you do with a trailer full of bedbug infested furniture?

So I got on the cell and called into the labyrinth of phone tag that is the county recycling center's phone system. On the third call, I got a live human, the supervisor of the solid waste facility who said that yes, he understood the situation, and yes, he would wait for us and keep the back gate open. So we hustled and he watched for us. Now, I ask you, what are the chances of government personnel answering the phone after 5:00 p.m.??? God nudged him to pick up that phone and moved his heart to help us out. I'm sure of it.

When I had a moment alone with the homeowners, I explained to them that in my natural self, I wouldn't have helped them, but as a follower of Jesus, I thought that helping them would be an "in His steps" kind of thing to do. They both smiled broadly and basically praised the Lord right there in their living room.

They also *tipped* more than $75 and promised that each of them would say an extra prayer for me. I can always use an extra prayer, even if it comes by way of a rosary, I think.

I have tons more great stories, but that's probably the best in a while. Evan comes home from camp tomorrow. I really miss him already!