Wasp Watcher

This bug – probably a wasp – has been hanging around all week.  He snuck in Monday afternoon somehow.  Jonathon and I tried opening the front door to lure him out to greener pastures. We encouraged him and waved our hands at the open door. Nothing doing.  Instead, he flew towards our large window that looks out over the driveway.  To be fair, mornings fill this living room/dining room with light.  The place glows.  Poor misguided bug went towards the light, he did.

He’s larger than a honeybee, but long, and almost all black.  He lacks the tubby roundedness of a bumblebee.  Somewhere along the way, he lost his stinger.  He beat himself against the windowpane, trying to get free.  He buzzed, angry now, and beat some more.  Realizing he wouldn’t be exiting our home any time soon, I closed the curtains around him.

“Mom,” Zac protested.  “That’s mean!”

“Yes,” I chuckled.  “And he’ll be dead by morning.” Mom – 1, Wasp – 0.

Only he wasn’t.

As we ate breakfast, Ruby and I heard the busy humming of the trapped insect. He survived, and kept on surviving. Cue Donna Summer, folks.

WaspHe looks roach-like in this photo, but he’s really not.  Anyway, it’s Thursday now.  The wasp, near the end of his life cycle, managed to crawl out of the curtains.  Yet he’s still stuck.  Lacking energy to fly or seek another passage, he alternately rests and vibrates.  Both cats have monitored his progress.  Rex found him first, gazing up at the mysterious flying object. Even now, Chloe sits next to the big window.  It’s her turn, apparently. The wasp fights against the glass, again, loudly, without success. He flies and drops, flies and drops.

I have to admire his tenacity.  He is nothing if not persistent.  Lest you think me incredibly cruel, the window he chose doesn’t open.  Never has.  It’s been painted shut since we moved in almost 8 years ago now. All the muscle I possess won’t budge it.

It’s quiet. I hear no buzzing now.  Rex dozes on the rug in front of me. Chloe waits and watches, a fuzzy paragon of patience.  It’s only a matter of time.

Compassion rose up within me.  I couldn’t watch him die, not after witnessing such chutzpah. With no fight – or stinger – left in him, he wouldn’t be able to hurt me. I grabbed a plastic container and a piece of paper to cover it with.  I gently scraped him into the container and opened the front door.  He clung to the paper until I flung him off.  He landed on the ground in the sun.

I felt the wasp’s frustration.  How many times have I beat my head against a wall, willing situations and the people in them to change?  My willfulness traps us into thinking we know the only way to do something, get somewhere. That’s when I know I need the Lord’s wisdom and probably a little surrender, too. Tenacity doesn’t always reap benefits. Sometimes windows don’t open; doors either.  It’s time to turn around and retrace our steps back to what we know. Or rather, who we know.


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