Wolfie, the bee and me

You might think that an Advanced Master Gardener who tested as understanding about garden insects would be a little less squeamish about bugs than the average person?  Er, no.

You might think that scaring the wolf spider who fled under the passenger’s car seat, and the “barrier” of the light of a flashlight and a floor space clear of travel garb in which to hide would make the back seat a safe haven for the 6-hour drive home?  Er, no.  I opted for the trunk of the station wagon!

You might think that I’d be used to a sweat bee pestering us at the outdoor dining patio of a small town restaurant since it’s a common phenomena for late summers in Indiana?  Er, no.

And you might think that the gnat in my wild rice was no big deal since I only planned to eat 2 tiny bites due to dietary restrictions; I’d already eaten them so I shouldn’t care right?  Er, no.

Yeah, you might think that a 15-hour road trip to pick up my River Bear husband’s new kayak would be uneventful for the dutiful wife passenger . . . er, no!  For me it was the little things that meant a lot when they were crawling and flying too close to my personal body parts, facial orifices, and comfort zones!  Perhaps the 7 or so tic and seizure attack zips during the afternoon put me a little on edge for the first leg of the trip from Fort Wayne, Indiana to Erie, Pennsylvania.  I had brought ample snacks, blankies, and a pillow for maximum cushy; the lush countryside as we travelled from the flat soybean fields of our homeland to the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains made for ample eye candy in between rest stops as well.  I guess I didn’t do so well after all.  I just wonder why spontaneous adventures like these can no longer be, er, “normal?”

Sorry for the down mood.  I spent most of the day in bed today recovering from our day trip.  Gratefully, Steve has a beautiful Epic V12 surf ski in mint condition now, for a steal-of-a-deal price:  $500 below the boat he sold to get it.  My guy sure knows how to trade boats!  As for me, I missed attending a meaningful wedding this afternoon with my beloved and many of our friends from church; I had more tic attacks and convulsions plus an additional 4 1/2 hours of sleep instead!  I woke up worthless except for the intact ability to cruise the internet in bed for hours.  Gratefully I’d made dozens of veggie turkey burgers two nights ago to sustain me with the intermittent, partial bag of Beanitos chips.  Ahhhhh, such is the life of a person lost in the recovery from Lyme Disease.

So where am I now?  I’m more stable as I’ve passed my bewitching hour of 9 to 11:00 p.m. when I usually have a noxious episode.  Thank the Lord I already covered that one earlier today!  My husband has graciously attended to some house chores and provided an occasional kiss of encouragement here and there.  I, too, would have liked to have hidden in the dark under the “seat of life,” buzzed about aimlessly until I found what I was looking for, or curled up next to the softness of a mound of carbs . . . I guess from here I will proceed otherwise.

It’s time for me to crawl like the slow-moving sow bugs on our hardwood floors, before the Throne of Grace.  I need Jesus.  I need an infilling of the Holy Spirit, nothing else.  I need to go it alone at what ever miles per hour it takes to drive home into my heart that this too shall pass.  My thoughts need softening and only the Lord can bring this gently, lovingly, perfectly.  Oh my Jesus, meet me here this night.  Let there be Your light and nothing else.  Thank you Lord for hearing me.

Just Julie

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