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Monday, March 14, 2011

booty girl's nature window

Windows have always been a constant in my life.

I know what you're thinking - what the heck does that mean?

Ever since I was little, coincidentally, my windows have been full of little critters.  Much to my delight, wherever I moved my windows have always been the resting place of spiders spinning webs or little ants marching one-by-one (hoorah!).   Which is particularly lucky, because there's hardly anything I love more than being outside. 

My family calls this the "booty girl's nature window" phenomenon.  Booty-girl, I think I should mention, is a nickname that my family still calls me to this day.  I'm not really sure where or from what it first originated.  But I will say that I am now fully aware of its implications and what the term "booty" means in today's vernacular.

Thankfully, they never call me that in public.

One year a family of wasps made home in my "nature window."  I watched in awe as the big momma wasp circulated and spun and worked and plotted to make her nest for her little baby wasps.

I'm not sure how old I was.  I was in somewhere in the age range of "old enough to know that wasps could harm me," but "young enough to convince myself that I was invincible and that wasp stings probably don't hurt as badly as everyone says."

Finally, I felt compelled to share the latest happenings in "booty girls' nature window" with my dad. 

"Look, Dad!" I said with my bright blue eyes gleaming.  "The baby wasps!  They're about to be born!"

I brought my Dad into my room to show off my findings.  The larvae were wriggling and struggling out of the nest little little worms.

The next thing I knew, my Dad was outside of my window with a can of Raid. 

All the wasps, babies, struggling larvae and momma, fell dead to the bottom of my nature window.  And I was devastated.

I remember my mother coming carefully into my room.  Like many of the little girl dramas, I dealt with this one head on: face down, bawling into my pillow.

She stroked my back and explained to me that wasps were harmful. They were not pets and it didn't matter how much you loved them, they would still try to hurt you. 

"Your Dad is protecting you," said my Mom in a very serious tone.  Bless her for having patience with a daughter who is devastated by the lost of her wasp friends.  I didn't argue.  I just continued to cry hysterically.

"Plus," she said. "You wouldn't want your Daddy to get stung while he was working in the yard, would you?"

I sat straight up in my bed suddenly alarmed by this possibility.  Could my wasps really have tried to hurt my Daddy? 

Oh no

I dried my tears and watched my Dad outside from the now formerly-booty-girl-nature-window.  Those wasps needed to go.  They needed to get out of my window. 




Y'all, isn't our Heavenly Father the same way?  If He eliminates or strips something out of your life, it isn't because he hates you or wants to make you miserable.


It probably made my Dad miserable to watch me cry as a direct result of something he had done.

But he did it out of protection.  Because he knew something I didn't.



God works in the same way.  Any loss or misery we face in our daily lives has a purpose.  God wants to protect us.  He doesn't enjoy taking our pleasures away - but He wants to protect us from heartbreak. 

Sometimes we need God to step in and kill the wasps in our lives.




Happy Monday!


B.
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