The flies were less active late at night, but they often woke Hazel up when they walked on her face while she was sleeping. “Do something about these flies!” she yelled at Mel one day. “When you go to sleep tonight, have a new dream! Dream that God told you to close the front door and throw out all this rotting meat!”

Mel drove back to Wal-Mart and bought two dozen cans of insect spray. When he came home, he sprayed the whole house. The house stank. Many flies died, covering the floor and carpet. The kids got sick from the fumes. But the next day, more flies moved in. “I can’t take this anymore!” Hazel yelled at Mel. “You have a choice—me, or the flies.”

“We’ll move into the back yard,” he said.

“That’s your solution? We have a perfectly good house, but we’re going to live outside in the back yard?”

“Not outside—inside,” he told his wife. “I’ll just build another house in the back yard.”

“Are we going to feed the flies in that house, too?”

“Of course not—unless God tells me to. And if He does, then I’ll build a third house in the back yard. We’ve got a big back yard, honey.”

“Yes, it’s big, but it’s not big enough for all the flies in the world.”