Skunked...

Woody came home from his walk skunked. Either he rolled in dead skunk or he got sprayed by Petunia, the skunk that takes her nocturnal constitutionals in our driveway. However it happened, the smell was oily, overpowering, overwhelming. Woody looked sheepish as if he understood we were not overjoyed to see him but managed to pull off a nonchalant attitude as he came on the back porch.
I flew to the computer and googled “skunk odor removal” and gathered what seemed to be an unlikely combination of ingredients... hydrogen peroxide, baking soda and liquid dish detergent. After applying the mixture to poor Woody and letting it sit for five minutes (any longer and he would have had bleached hair), I rinsed him off and he smelled fresh as a daisy. Hallelujah! A skunk remedy that actually works is worth its weight in gold when you need it.
This set me to thinking about skunk remedies in general and skunk remedies in particular for myself. What do I do or what can I do when I get skunked? After 67 years I have had some experience in this field but I am still learning new recipes every day. Pastor Pat helped direct my mulling over “skunkedness” this week with her sermon on Sunday so I want to give her credit for some of the following.
Like the disciples after Jesus’ death (and like Woody), we can go home again. When we are smelling to high heaven, flat out in misery, don’t know which way to turn, we can turn homeward. It may not be the home or the people who birthed you but we all have a home somewhere... a person, a place, a piece of music, a memory or an experience that is our heart’s resting place. Go home first. Lick your wounds or take your medicine or as in Woody’s case, let someone else tend to your stinkiness. You can’t take up residence there forever, though. You will get bleached out, become a shadow of your former self.
Jesus came to the disciples as they were back home fishing, a stranger in the early morning fog, and told them to put their nets in on the other side of the boat. After a night of pulling empty nets in, a night spent in bone weary work trying to ease the pain and confusion of their past week, they put the nets over the side one more time after grumbling a little, and pulled in a huge catch. When they got to shore, Jesus had breakfast ready and to homecoming was added the act of obedience. It is easy to be obedient when you know the ending of the story but it is painfully difficult to practice obedience when you are in a skunk fog. You have to listen for the voice of God in some pretty strange places and be willing to take action, even if you grumble a little...obedience as an active participation in the dance of life not a passive spectator sport. Obedience to the great commandment, love God and love your neighbor as yourself, is always a good place for me to start.
Somehow, and herein lies a great mystery, the acts of obedience pave the way for provision to be made... crooked paths become straight, the fog begins to lift a little, little miracles abound and a new way begins to form. As I extend myself in the name of God to those around me, God reaches back and pulls me along to a new place, a higher ground. God provides for me some heartsease as I meet the challenges of living through my smelly skunk times.
God never gives up on me. If one remedy for my smelly self doesn’t work, there is always another one to try. God keeps on showing up, prodding, poking, worrying me to death until I get the message. What a relief to know that I can never be separated from the love of God. At my worst, God still sees my best and is my creative source for change and growth towards who I am meant to be.
Thanks be to God for skunk remedies of all kinds...home coming, obedience, patient persistence, presence and participation. Skunked or not, I am all yours, God. Keep me close to you so that I might never lose sight of the path that leads home. Amen.