We’ve had a dirt project going literally since April – moved a bunch of plants and took out a bunch of gravel to make a formerly grey spot a green spot. Been pretty much an eyesore in front of the house all summer, but Tom’s busy and the trailer he needed to use was busy, so it languished. He had a couple of vacation days earlier this month, so he spent two of them hauling dirt from our Ohio farm over to this spot. They had excavated around a creek bed over there and he said the dirt was really good. This entailed driving 45 minutes to Ohio, getting the tractor with the digger geared up, digging out the dirt, loading it in the dump trailer, 45 minutes back to Ripley, dump and back to Ohio. Six trips. Two days. Yes, I owe him bigtime for not carrying on about how “Grey gravel was fine – what possessed you to think you needed grass,” yada yada yada.
I would help him do the dumps in our project area, and one night he does this huge dump of dirt, and there are these little golf-ball-looking things in the dirt. Perfect white round balls. A bit smaller than a golf ball. I pick one up and look it over – very rubbery feeling, probably about the size of a ping-pong ball. There are ten or more of them in this pile of dirt. They have been dug out of the creek, dumped into the trailer, ridden 45 minutes and now dumped back out. I’m thinking they can’t be an egg – what kind of egg could stand that much throwing around?
I get one and take it up to Tom. He picks it up, looks it over, puts it about three inches from his face and squeezes it. Oh, yeah – HUMONGOUS squirt right into his face! I have to admit, I died laughing – and I’m still laughing…. It was an egg – very powerful egg too – went off like a jet propulsion. It’s all over his face, his hands, his glasses. He goes for the hose, and I’m bent over, hysterical. All the work he’d done, and this is the thanks he gets! You really had to be there.
The next day, I had these carpet stretching guys at the house, and I’m walking them out, and I tell them the story and show them the pile of eggs. They instantly say, “Oh, them’s snake eggs.” WHAT? I’m envisioning grabbing them all, lining them up and running over them with my car. Like we need no snakes around here! Then they look a little closer (not squeezing…) and say, “Nope, them’s turtle eggs, snapping turtle eggs.” I cannot get over how solid and well protected this egg is. The covering truly felt like rubber and was just perfectly round. Another example of how awesome God is and how he creates the most unique and perfect things.
Well, I’m not sure, now that I think about it, what happened to the rest of the eggs. They may have gotten crushed as Tom spread the dirt out and leveled it with the four-wheeler. What it has reminded me of is the fact that when we are squeezed, whatever is in us will come splurting out…sometimes in not too attractive of a manner. The Bible tells us that “A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and an evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.”
See, these eggs took a lot of battering, a lot of displacement, a lot of turmoil and uproar with no consequence. But when pressed, they exploded. Same with us. Sometimes we can take it, take it, take it and then we explode. And how does that affect our witness? Terribly, of course. It’s almost as if we’ve spit in someone’s face, when venom spews forth out of our mouth. God has been convicting me lately about studying his Word more and getting alone with Him. See, I study and I pray, but it’s usually for someone else, for something I’m going to teach or for something I’m getting ready for. God has been telling me, “I want time with you so I can work on you – not on someone else. How can I do anything with you if you aren’t filling yourself with Me?”
My desire is that when I’m pressed, when I’m kicked around, when I’m bruised and battered, still no venom will proceed from my mouth. God is working on me, making me into what He wants me to be. Join me….and probably don’t to go squeezing on any strange round balls….just saying.
My name is Teresa Evans. I am a wife to Tom, a retired Circuit Judge, and I am a court reporter by trade, a mother by God's grace and a lover of Jesus Christ. I've grown up in a family blessed with many miracles, and have received multiple miracles myself.