Written by Michael Claxton
There are very few sermons that I remember from my youth. Like many teens, I often passed time during church by doodling on attendance cards or wondering how someone had managed to break off that tiny pencil so that it was stuck forever in its holder on the back of the pew. Given these distractions, I am proud that I actually made notes of a sermon in 1988 by Forrest Chapman, a well-known preacher in Georgia. It was based on the Exodus 8 account of the plague of frogs in Egypt. Brother Chapman pointed out one of the more bizarre statements of Pharaoh, after he was faced with a bad case of the Kermits throughout his entire country. When asked by Moses when he wanted the plague removed, Pharaoh answered “Tomorrow.” Inexplicably, it seems, Pharaoh wanted to spend “one more night with the frogs” (that was the sermon title). The point of the message was about procrastination. How often, Chapman asked, are we like Pharaoh, putting off important decisions we know we need to make? That sermon came back to me last night after I discovered the fifth live frog in my house since I moved there in May. Now, I am used to spiders sneaking around the house, and I can even deal with ants, having witnessed my mother declare war on the tiny pests any time she spotted them making tracks to the sugar bowl. But frogs? Why are there frogs in my house? Surely five counts as some kind of plague. Am I being punished for something? Has God hardened my heart because I refused to let his people get A’s on their English 111 papers? Should I go ahead and buy some gnat spray? On the one hand, I have to admire these little guys. I have no idea how they manage to get into the house. Not one has ever rung the doorbell and then hopped in under my nose when I was looking for a guest at eye level. I even found one of them on top of the door frame in the living room, which is six feet from the ground. How did he get up there? I hated to move him just in case he was only inches away from reaching some lifetime goal. But I did anyway.SPORTS ANCHOR: “So, how does it feel to be the first frog in Arkansas to reach the top of Mount Doorpost?”FROG: “I’m afraid I don’t know. Some goofball knocked me down before I got all the way to the corner. It only took me two years to get that far, man. Next thing I know, I’m being scooped in a plastic cup and dumped on the front porch. Yeah, like that was real humane. Why don’t you just kill me next time?”I didn’t realize just how bitter these daredevil amphibians can get. Actually, the cup removal technique was not just to avoid animal cruelty. I’ve learned that you can’t exactly squash frogs like you can spiders. Do you know how hard it is to get frog goo out of a Stain-Master carpet?By the way, no one told me about any of this when I first thought about buying a house. All my friends talked up the benefits—the pride of home ownership, the increased living space, the investment potential and something called “equity”—but no one mentioned all the wildlife. Moles in the front yard, spiders in the bathroom, worms on the driveway, frogs everywhere. I didn’t buy a house; I bought a terrarium. Don’t get me wrong—I love my new house. But animal husbandry is just part of the hassle of owning a home. The first day I moved in, the mailbox handle broke. The other day, the dryer hose came loose and turned the laundry room into a sauna (which, so I hear, is a frog’s favorite climate). Cabinet door handles have fallen off, kitchen drawers have stuck, the siding had to be pressure-washed, the back deck has to be fixed and I have ruined at least two pairs of pants backing into wet paint. But whenever I call the landlord, I remember that it’s me. Last night I dreamt that I bought a new house, and whenever I shut the kitchen cabinets, shingles would fall off the roof. I woke up in a cold sweat. At this point, my repair budget is already shot. If the kitchen sink were to back up anytime soon, I wouldn’t be able to fix it right away. I’ll just have to spend one more night with the clogs.MICHAEL CLAXTON is a guest contributor for the Bison. He may be contacted atmclaxto1@harding.edu.
