There was a fox under my window last night. At least that is what John thought it was. It is hard to describe a sound accurately. You kind of have to hear the mournful howl of a mother who has no food for her kits. Or maybe it was the song of success. I'm not sure. 

 

A few years ago when I kept chickens the noise would have sent me to me feet, leaping downstairs, two steps at a time, to wave a broom at the intruder. How dare she prowl around my coops, licking her chops at the smell of my defenseless Silkies? There was one time when the lid on top was accidentally left open, and my girls were as vulnerable as a chick in the grass. Except that the foxes only circled around the perimeter. They didn't think to jump. That was lucky. 

 

But now I can listen to the yammer of night creatures without taking it as an attack. They are doing their life. I do mine. No knee jerk reaction from me as I lay under the warm covers on a chilly night. 

 

A friend is trying to untangle issues in her marriage. There are boundaries being crossed, and accusations flying across the bow. But she has come to believe that her husband's pain isn't actually about her. Her intention is to not take it personally. This can be tricky when the pronouns include "you" on a regular basis. But still in her prayers, and daily reading of the Word the answers have led her to a place that offers protection. He has his path, and it is not her responsibility to protect him from it. She loves him, and shows that in ways he can hear. But in releasing herself from the role of Cause, she is more free. Braver. 

 

They are in my prayers as well, and I can picture a year or so down the road, the confusion will be more muted. Some of the demons will give up and go away. And she will sing a song of success.