Peaceful Coexistence with a Wasp

No, not WASP, but wasp – the flying, stinging kind.  And yes, I said peaceful coexistence with.

A big old granddaddy looking wasp of a thing has taken up residence on my sun porch.  And his stinger is formidable.

Apparently wasps live anywhere from days to a couple of years, depending on who they are (of course, the queen of the colony lives the longest and why not?  She, after all, is the recipient of the largesse of all ‘her’ workers).

I had no thought of wasp life-spans, however, when I beheld granddaddy on the door in to my office the other day.  I thought about getting out the trusty fly swatter (and no, I am not so dedicated a pacifist that I don’t have one) and bringing our budding relationship to a quick end.

But I did not.  I’m not sure why, but it did occur to me that he was doing me no harm and surely we could peacefully coexist within that space.

Being who I am, I gave thought to the notion of pre-emptive strike (as in kill him before he even thinks about stinging me).  And I remembered the ants – the ones I allowed to share my domain who turned out to have thousands upon thousands of close relatives and friends they invited to the party and who all came.  That did not end well for them or me.

Still I took the risk that this guy means me no harm and bowed out gracefully, leaving him to do whatever it is wasps do.  But perhaps I did him no favor, as I doubt there’s much for him to eat on the sun porch.

I saw him a couple of days later and he’s definitely moving slower now – the normal life cycle?  Lack of food?  Boredom?  I cannot say.

Thus can I claim a lack of vice by taking no action to end his life.  But there is hardly virtue in my (feigned) indifference, for surely if I really cared, I would have acted to return him to where he really meant to be, which is not captive on a sun porch with none of his fellows and a scarcity of resources.

After all, it was and is within my power to do so.

And yet, out of my own fears of granddaddy and that pernicious stinger, I know I will not.  And he will die.  And that will be that.

Another day on planet earth where I am left to conclude that our indifference is the greatest killer of all.  Guilty am I, for it turns out that peaceful coexistence requires a bit more of me than leaving you alone.

Life is Risky: An Homage to the Holy Innocents

Life is Risky

For the ill, a handshake with the wrong person can be life-threatening.

For the frightened, even eye contact can be too much to dare.

For the lonely, outreach to others is fraught with possibilities of rejection.

For those whose body chemistries are askew, even the next step is uncertain.

Life is risky.

The well become ill.

The brave become frightened.

The social become isolated.

The mentally stable lose their footing.

It happens every second of every minute of every day.

It happens that those
who ground their footing
on the sameness of things
will be surprised and not pleasantly.

You’d think it’d make us more aware –
and more kind.

There but for the grace of God go I
being more about irony than
providence,

for surely there we all go –
there into the uncertainty
of future
where the only foothold
we have, as it turns out,
is on the hand of God

who promises nothing certain
in earthly terms we can cling to

no good health
no general welfare
no surefootedness
no bravery
no virtue

only God

that is my takeaway
from Job – not the
restoration – for even
restorations are but
temporary things –
the Lazarus’ of the world
being with us still
only for a time

no – my Job takeaway
is the reminder that
God is both the promise
and the promiser –

the object as well as
the subject

of everything

I am but a footnote

and I am okay with that.