July 9, 2008

Stung!

2008 1519 page31 capOOOWWWW! I shouted as searing pain shot through my exposed thigh.
 
I had been minding my own business in my own backyard, using the hose to fill the birdbath with fresh water, when I noticed what at first appeared to be a swarm of flies buzzing about our flowering hedges—the same ill-bred insects that hover over garbage cans and other disgusting refuse.
 
I aimed the garden hose at them to “send them packing,” but I had no sooner turned the heavy spray of water in their direction when more of their kind flew angrily out of the bushes. Then I felt a nasty, burning pain in my right thigh. I realized too late that these were not flies—they were wasps!
 
I quickly shut off the water, dropped the hose, limped into the house, and examined the damage to my thigh. The bright red spot in the center was surrounding itself with an even brighter red circle; and though the pain was lessening, the throbbing heat had just begun.
 
2008 1519 page31I called my husband, Sam, at work. “We have a problem,” I announced, and then told him what happened.
 
“I’ll spray them tonight,” he said.
 
I knew that Sam would dig out the first can labeled “insect spray” he could find in the garage, and then, without reading the directions, spray every inch of the flowering shrubs and every miniscule critter harbored therein. With this in mind, 
I decided I should become more fully acquainted with our adversaries so that I might slow his aggressive instincts with some informed logic.
 
The first surprise that World Book Encyclopedia disclosed 
was that wasps are considered “helpful” insects! Tell that to my throbbing thigh! I thought. But I read on. I learned that wasps help control and destroy harmful garden pests such as aphids and grubs. And they are not mean—just nervous. H’mmm.
 
Fascinated by the information I had gleaned from our ancient encyclopedias, I logged on to the Internet to investigate further. There I found a wealth of information about my winged attackers.
 
I learned that wasps are instrumental in pollinating various plants. They are community-oriented, industrious, and amazingly sophisticated. Their heroic concern is not only for their offspring but the colony as well. Their architecture is also truly amazing. They build extensive, elaborate hives—one cell at a time.
 
Wasps are also able to regulate the temperature of the nest themselves; the females move their flight muscles while keeping their wings motionless, thereby generating heat from their metabolic activity. If the outside temperature rises above 86 degrees, the workers cool the nest by bringing in water and causing it to evaporate by beating their wings.
 
Time and space do not permit a full description of these wondrous insects, but the miracle of their creation is mind-boggling. Only an awesome God would give such detail and ability to an infinitesimal insect, one often viewed with scorn and contempt.
 
“Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power: for thou hast created all   things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created” (Rev. 4:11, KJV). Oh, that we might see through the eyes of our loving God to truly experience the wonder of His creation!
 
It pains me to say that we had to spray the hive; my grandson was also stung after a poorly aimed ball landed too near the nest. I look now at the remains of the sanctuary of these incredible insects and am filled with remorse. Why can’t we live in harmony with all of God’s creation? Surely He loves these, the least of His wonders. He put so much that is amazing into their existence. But humanity’s sin has made it impossible—our sin, my sin.
 
These tiny creatures have taught me a valuable lesson: that all life is precious and that taking time to examine and enjoy the world around us can help us understand more fully the all-consuming expanse of God’s love.
 
I imagine that when sin no longer exists to separate us from our Creator, there will be a gentle buzz from a large gray hive from which a swarm of wasps will fly over the lion that has lain down with the lamb.
 
Your grace, O God, Your wisdom, Your love, and yes, Your sense of humor, are indeed sufficient.
 
___________
Elsie B. Zelms is a wife, mother, grandmother, and writer who lives in Bartlett, Illinois.

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