Bugs and I have a love/hate relationship.
They love me...I hate them.
I already mentioned my dark nemesis,
the cicada, the summer of 2003 in DC.
But bugs, in general, think I am fabulous.
I am like a buggy beacon of light they are drawn to on a dark night.
I don't know if it the faint scent of peanut butter and jelly
that surrounds me since I am a mom of little ones,
or they just know, instinctively,
that they will get a good reaction out of me.
A couple of nights ago we had some of our old youth kids,
who are now in college, over for coffee and some talking about Jesus.
We had just started talking about how God uses trials in our life
to purify us and shape us and my answer to the question posed was,
A nice raspberry of a sound.
Scott raised his eyebrows, a little surprised.
"It was a bug - on my lips - a bug."
Then the excitement began.
This tiny flitting thing began whipping around my head.
"Get it off!" (Me)
"I don't see anything, Sue." (Scott)
"I can feel it - I'm itchy all over." (Me)
"It's on your shoulder." (Leanne, old youth kid)
If you have ever seen the maori mosquito dance performed by
the native people of New Zealand,
you will have some idea of what I looked like.
There was a general slapping, shaking out of my shirt, and
flipping of hair, punctuated by shrieks of,
"Where is it? Do you see it? Did it just go down my shirt?"
I know Scott was just praying I wouldn't start shedding clothes.
I remember my grandma telling me
she had once thought of stepping out of her pants,
when a lizard ran up her leg in the orchard,
so casting off clothes when critters are involved is in my blood.
Either I killed it or it was scared to death
and flew for its very tiny life, but I no longer felt it.
The college kids just kind of stared at me amazed and,
frankly, I think, a little frightened.
Scott got the conversation back on track but I felt
I had already made my contribution to the teaching.
A personal demonstration of a trial.
Trial by bug.