A Picnic to Remember

Angry Bees after Honey Harvesting

Mountains of Turkmenistan 2009

Job 12:10 NIV

"In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind."

The drowning was accidental.

We children had been playing at Winton Woods in a shallow creek chasing tadpoles and skipping rocks across the surface after eating a Sunday picnic lunch. 

My family had met the Eatons after church at a secluded spot in the woods, and now mom and dad were talking to George and Ercel while Bekka, Teri, Rob and I were playing among the wooded tree line and racing through the open hillside.

Our picnic lunch was still spread out on the grass, inviting nature's scavengers to explore its contents. The ants were feasting on the leftovers, but they were not in mortal peril. No. They were safe that afternoon.  The lone casualty was the yellow jacket who balanced precariously along the edge of the two liter bottle of root beer.

I thought bees had a better sense of balance, so it must have been by choice that the yellow jacket made the plunge into the bottle. None of us were there to witness her descent into the sugary sweetness of thick syrup.

I don't know if she had a controlled landing or if she belly-flopped into the mass of dark soda, but she dove into the mess and was stuck on the surface doomed to perish. When she landed in the fluid, she discovered she could no longer fly.

By the time we returned from our play in the water, she was dead. We mourned her as only children can mourn a yellow jacket who has accidentally drowned in a two liter bottle of root beer. We poured our hearts and souls into our grief, and then we tried to remove her carcass so we could drink some more root beer.

However, Bekka was determined to give her a proper burial. My sister, Teri, thought that was a great idea and hunted for something to put her in. Seems like we found a little match box to put her damp, sticky body in.

We dug a hole in the ground, and with our amused parents gathered around us, we spoke words over the yellow jacket as we lay her to rest under the shade of a tree. We marked her little grave with twigs in the shape of a cross.

Children understand on an intuitive level the sanctity of life.  While their displays of that knowledge may be manifested in simple ways, such as burying a bee, there is much to be learned from them and their Innocent understanding of life and death.

Each life is precious in God's eyes. If He cares about the death of a bee, how much more does He care about my life and its problems?

However, He isn't waiting for me to fall into a vat of root beer, nearly drowning, before He rescues me.

He is here now whenever I need Him. He is reaching out to me. All I have to do is ask for His help.
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Lord, thank you for your love, which lifts me.