Email: Jessica Crossan

Friends,

Be forewarned, a lot happened this week, so this blog may be long and be a little random.

My mom will appreciate this story: Today I discovered that a little friend  had found his way up to our third floor apartment. That’s right, we had a mouse. I was going about my business making cookies, when I opened the bottom drawer in our kitchen to get out the cookie trays and out leapt this tiny, gray (and creepy) little fella. Without thinking, I screamed at the top of my lungs and jumped on top of a chair (am I sounding like a stereotypical woman?). Kevin did not come to my rescue fast enough, so I continued to scream, probably causing my neighbors to think someone was trying to kill me and effectively distracting myself from seeing where the mouse went. In any case, Kevin eventually came into the kitchen; I told him what had happened and then sent him to Tesco (grocery store) to get mousetraps. I wore my big winter boots around the kitchen until I was sure the mouse was too scared to come out while I was in there. Kevin kept asking me “Why are you so scared of mice? They’re so little, they’re not going to hurt you.” Honestly, I don’t know. I didn’t used to be. Other things don’t scare me—not spiders, or bugs, or even snakes—but mice, eww.

Tonight at youth club, a girl (I’ll call her Katie) came up to me and informed me that she was protesting. I asked Katie what she was protesting against, and she responded, disgusted “He’s going to let Catholics into a church!” The “he” the girl was referring to was Chris, Fortwilliam and Macrory’s new youth and community development worker. Evidently, the kids were asking Chris whether he would let a Catholic into the youth club, and Chris told them that if a Catholic child showed up and felt safe enough to come into the youth club, he would absolutely allow them in. Well, this outraged some of the kids, and they made signs and yelled stuff like “You’re a taig lover!” to Chris. (“Taig” is an Irish word for “rat,” and is also used as a very derogatory term to refer to Catholics.) Anyway, I was not sure how to respond to Katie. I tried to play the ignorant American card and ask her why she wouldn’t want a Catholic at youth club, but she was too angry to listen to what I was saying and just continued to vent. So I let her; I just listened to her go on about how “pissed” she was at Chris (her words, not mine) and how he must not be a Christian if he would allow Catholics in a Protestant club. I kept thinking, “What are you so scared of? Why would you be afraid of a child who is just like you. They’re not going to hurt you, not any more than any of the other children here.”

Fear is a funny thing. I am so scared of mice. Why? Because they’re dirty, they sometimes carry diseases, they could bite me. Have any of these things ever happened to me? No, I’ve just heard about them. And hey, my mom is scared of mice—why shouldn’t I be? Katie is afraid of Catholics coming to her youth club. Why? Because family and friends of hers may have been hurt by Catholic groups during the “Troubles.” Has she seen any of that in her lifetime? No. She’s scared because of what she’s heard too. Granted, being scared of losing your life or getting seriously injured because of political differences is a lot more serious than my fear of mice, but the same concept applies: There’s no moving forward if we hold on to our fears. Sometimes we need to take chances. Kevin thinks that I should take a chance by getting gerbils to keep as pets (I am not convinced). Maybe a chance the kids at youth club can take is to at least tolerate a Catholic child or two at youth club. Maybe we’ll see that our fears really aren’t all that threatening.

Well, just in case you were wondering—Kevin and I got home from youth club tonight and found our furry friend had been caught in one of the traps. Despite the humane trap, little mousey was dead. We gave him a proper burial (OK, not really: Kevin wrapped him up in a plastic bag while I cowered on the couch hoping that none of the mouse’s relatives were going to show up for a funeral, then Kevin threw the mouse in the bin outside). Whew, what a day!

Jessica Crossan