Skunk relocation and other things.

Dear friend,

If you've spend time in the presence of our family, you know we tell the same stories again and again. Frankly, because they're hilarious.

One of my favorite stories involved the Bride's grandpa. In his eighties, he and a friend had decided to get into the business of skunk relocation. Skunks can be a problem on the farm, and they can be everywhere. So once they'd decided on the mission, it was going to be a large one.

Their solution was something straight out of a Mission Impossible. First, they set an important mission parameter: Grandpa Tom and Cobb didn't want to kill the skunks. That would be inhumane. Second, they studied their quarry. They quickly deduced that skunks wouldn't spray if they couldn't raise their tales. So they modified a live trap-- a cage, really-- and loaded the trap with apples and eggs and waited. At first, the process was quite clunky. So they kept working. The standard procedure had been to load up the live trap in the back of a pick up, drive the skunk several miles from the farm, and relocate it. But these two weren't done yet. They installed a rack to the back an old car that would hold the trap. They modified the trap so it, in fact, included a trap door. Then they carefully lined up eye bolts in the wood trim that ran the length of the old car. And then they ran a wire from the trap door up to the driver's side window in the car. I never wondered until now why Cobb didn't get to be the bombardier. Clearly Tom liked to be in charge of all the details and Cobb was just along for emotional support. With new success in their streamlined process, they actually added a second trap. Then they were back to catching skunks. Each morning they'd run their "trap line," find a skunk, and head off down the road.

At some point, the "can't raise their tails they can't spray their smell" theory must have been challenged. Because they came up with one more fail safe. They decided it would be "best" (and here we're not sure if best was for them or for the skunks) if the skunks made their relocation journey while they were sedated. And, of course, veterinarians don't give out sedatives for skunk relocation without a little more paper work. So they devised an "at home cure." It involved nail polish remover. They spend a couple of days before their prototype was ready for practice. They must have cleaned the hardware store out of eye-bolts. Because they used a one inch wooden dowel that was close to six feel long. They drilled and installed eye bolts the length of the dowel. AT the very bottom of the one inch dowel, they secured a syringe below the length of eye bolts. They they took a second, thinner dowel, and threaded it through the eye bolts. Where it met up with the plunger on the syringe, they glued the dowel to the top of the plunger. Then they'd fill the plunger up with nail polish remover, and the "skunk sleeper stick" was ready to go. Whenever they'd catch their quarry, they'd inject the nail polish remover into the skunk's lungs, thereby knocking it out. I have it on good authority that it took a few unapproved animal trials before the correct dosing was deciphered, and that not every skunk woke up from the "skunk sleeper" in the early days. But Tom and Cobb are both dead, and the statute of limitations should just about be up.

As missions will become routine, and good soldiers need to remain alert and train themselves to keep watch from boredom, our two intrepid adventures added speed to their routine. Where they'd started with "stop and drop" it was now 100 percent "tuck and roll". I once made the mistake of asking "where do you release all these skunks", figuring there was a neighbor who had been the main beneficiary of relocation. Tom's answer? Oh, there's a high bridge over a creek a few miles from here. We like to see what happens when we drop them on the bridge AS WE"RE DRIVING DOWN THE ROAD AT TOP SPEED." Finally, when I hadn't heard about the project in a while, I asked how it was going. "Oh. That. The trip wire broke. So we went back to drinking coffee in town. We were going to run out of skunks, sooner or later."

That's a man on a mission at eighty. I have higher hopes for you. First, you're not eighty yet. Second, and more importantly, there aren't many skunks where you live. In chapter 13 of Joshua, God and Joshua have a little sit down. Here's literally what God says: Look, I know you're an old man, but there is a lot of work to be done." And then God lays out a list. And follows up with a promise: "These things I will do for you." Amazing to me, that God has a plan, but includes his follower with a plea, a promise, and a purpose.

You were built on purpose for a purpose, friend. And while skunk relocation is spectacular, you're built for more than that.