Sittin' is a more relaxed, open thing than Sitting.
The purpose behind sittin' may be known. Or not.
But that won't interfere with the sittin'; doesn't change it at all.
I'm sittin' here watching the sunset change colors to dusk, drinkin' the Elixir of Knowledge, and mulling.
Thinking about everything.
And nothing in particular.
That's the neat thing about mulling.
You stir the pot and see what's in there.
See what floats to the top.
Huh.
It's the Bat Man. How did -
Oh. Okay.
Sunset>Painting>Arts>Music> Instruments>Drums>Drummer>
Different Drummer>Unique People>
the Bat Man.
Yeah. It makes sense. Kinda.
The Bat Man, an older gentleman, lived just outside of town on 40 acres near a small creek.
He and Mrs. Bat Man had a unique hobby.
They were nudists.
In the Northwoods.
Brave, they were.
Bright?
Well...
They built winding trails on their 40 acres of woods so they could stroll au naturel through Creation.
A Creation swarming with those creatures of the Fall - mosquitoes.
(Any good Northwoods pastor will tell you unequivocally that mosquitoes were created AFTER the Fall as a punctuation mark for the Curse.)
(And you thought The Angel With the 4-Way Sword was put there to keep Adam & Eve out of the Garden, right?)
(Nope. That was Heaven's version of a bug zapper.
It just happened to work real well on people, too.)
The Bat Man came up with an ingenious, ecologically-sound idea.
He would get thousands of bats to come to his place and vacuum the sky clean of those probing little proboscises.
He would build The Bat Hotel.
He read books.
Looked at diagrams.
Sketched.
Planned.
Then he was ready.
He constructed what looked like a giant, cedar-shaked outhouse without any doors or windows.
He mounted it about 30ft or so in the air by integrating 4 telephone poles into the architecture.
He figured he would get upwards of a couple thousand bats, all flocking to stay at the Bat Hotel.
Even if the hoped-for residents were picky-eaters, the mosquito population would be decimated to such a point that the Mooning Couple could finish a stroll without being a quart low
and looking like large raspberries.
A lot of time, money, and effort was put into The Bat Hotel.
It even got a write-up in the local newspaper.
It was simply called a "Mosquito Control Solution" without giving the bare facts as to why it was built in the first place.
Two months later, I was at the grocery store and overheard the Bat Man being queried by a local.
"So how many bats'cha got livin' der, eh?"
"Not that many. Maybe a hunnert or so."
"Why's dat?"
"I dunno. Da bats don't like it,
I guess."
The Bat Man and Mrs. Bat Man are long gone now. The property has been sold but The Bat Hotel stands out in a small clearing, a testament to its construction and design.
And it's still missing the bat infestation it was supposed to house.
Huh.
Well there's been a "Bat Hotel" or two that I've planned with the idea that HE'd go along with it.
I thought it was for HIS glory, HIS kingdom, soooooo why wouldn't HE, right?
And then HE doesn't show up.
HE doesn't bless it.
And it all crashes and burns.
But I guess I never asked HIM if HE liked the idea or not.
Just like the Bat Man, I made the assumption that it oughta work
because I had done my "due diligence".
And it made sense to me.
Yeah.
Like David trying to move the
Ark of the Covenant with an ox cart.
Or Cain's offering of roasted veggies.
Or Moses' first murderous attempt at setting his people free.
It didn't work out so well.
It wasn't what HE had wanted.
What HE requires.
S'pose it'd be best if I talk with HIM instead of at HIM, eh?
That would at least keep me from building Bat Hotels.