BATS IN THE BELFRY
Thank you for stopping by to see what this blog is all about. This one may have gotten your attention because of the title. I thought of calling it Batter Up, but went with a different theme photo.
This is a little story of a time when I was about 8 or 9 years old. Now it is funny to think and talk about, however, at the time it happened I think I was somewhat traumatized (LOL). In my family, there are four kids. I was second born of the bunch and one of two girls. My older brother is 14 months ahead of me with the younger ones are another boy and a girl.
We lived in Henderson, North Carolina at the time in a little two story house outside of town. This was a parsonage owned by the church my dad pastored. The house had 2 bedrooms downstairs and two upstairs. I was blessed with getting my own bedroom upstairs but the door to the attic storage was inside my room. I don’t recall being creeped out with that at least for a while.
I digress for a moment to set the stage. As far as I know since being an “adult”, I have really disliked bats of all kinds. The site of them on TV or images gave me the shivers. The other day a friend reminded me to watch the movie, ‘Cliffhanger’ and in the movie there is a scene in a cave with hundreds of these creepy creatures.
Of course she had no reason to tell me in advance since she didn’t know of my little romp with bats as a kid. When the scene came on, I had to cover my eyes literally and I could not watch. Even the sound of them almost sent me over the edge.
You may be asking yourself why I am writing about them then. Good question really. When that happened, I decided to be “Courageous” and face my past with my encounter and tell my story.
When I was asleep this one dark night, I was awakened by the squeaky sound over my head and around my room in addition to something dive bombing me. Now as I look back I laugh so you can too. I screamed a blood curdling scream and up the stairs came my parents. The bats had slipped under the crack of the door from the attic. They had made a home in our chimney somehow and for some unknown reason, that night they came out of hiding.
I was burrowed under the covers and my parents flew downstairs and got brooms. The bats were “escorted “ downstairs with the aid of the brooms and I recall clearly seeing my Mom pummeling one with the broom. I was fine except for the supposed trauma. But today, I am free from any dislike and dismay of the little creatures. They are necessary and have their place.
The moral to my little story is to face what troubles you even if it’s only to write it out. Sharing this with you got me out of my comfort zone and looking for a photo put me at ease. Now don’t get me wrong, I won’t go looking for trouble in a cave with them.