Dear Mouse

I think of you as a metaphore little mouse. You appeared in my home right as my husband left. You were very clever, and left poop all over the place. You made me feel dirty, and I would keep Makayla away from where you had been for fear she would get sick from you. I wondered if I felt sick from you. I would clean up after you and the next day clean it all up again. I hate you mouse! I purchased traps, with very little knowledge of how to kill a mouse properly. The traps I bought were useless. FINALLY, I had to ask for help. I was embarassed and ashamed as I didn't want anyone to think I am not a clean person. But I had to get some help. My dad has extensive knowledge on how to kill a mouse. He brought the proper trap. He set it up. And guess what? This morning I woke to find you dead. I disposed of you and nearly vomited and passed out as I was doing it. But I did it! Now you are gone, and I can breathe a sigh of relief. Mouse, you are a lot like Satan. Sneaky, dirty, you leave crap all over the place, you make people sick, I fear what you have done to my family, and without knowledge of our Heavenly Father, and not asking for his help, you can dwell in our homes and hearts until you take over. So goodbye mouse, and goodbye Satan. You are both not welcome here. No one can do everything alone, I need to remember that. I feel like I impose on everyone I ask to help me, and I need to remember the love I feel when I am asked for help. I will do better! I will ask for help. I will talk to my Heavenly Father when I need him. I promise:)
Sincerely,
Marcie