It was nine thirty, and I was going to bed. I'd been going to bed much later than that recently, and I was starting to feel it, so here I was.
And here was the fly, the crazy, crazy, excited, disturbed fly. We'd opened our windows today, with the screens up, but still one had managed to get in, and it had chosen my bedroom to reside in. It buzzed around nonstop, hitting windows (but refusing to go out when I opened the window--it was apparently attracted to glass but not holes?), and being a noisy irritation. I refused to go to sleep with that noise (that small, small, noise), so I tried capturing it in glass, hitting at it with a rolled up envelope, or waiting till it calmed down (good luck with that one!). I must have looked quite mad, swinging an upside-down clear blue mug randomly through the air. (By the way--an excited fly is nearly invisible, it is so fast, even when you're in the same room as it!)
But nothing worked, till at last I opened the screen and hoped it would fly it. It almost did, but came back in as I was reaching for glass to shut it, and I nearly yelled in frustration. Half an hour, a whole half hour had passed, with me chasing a fly. Chasing an irritation--nothing life threatening, not even a mosquito, which can bite as well as hum, no--this was a fly. I'd prayed about it, several times, asking for help, and here I was--I'd failed at shutting the window so I could get some sleep. I sat on the brown wood floor and waited, hoping it would try again and I would be fast enough. Instead of it flying out, a large brown beetle suddenly flew in, hit the wall, and fell between it and my desk. Really? I mean, really? I grabbed the envelope, used it to pick up the beetle, and threw the beetle out the window. I straightened up (windows are waist high when you open the bottom half), gave up and shut the window--and heard blessed silence as the noise of the crickets was cut off. I couldn't believe it. God had the fly leave when I didn't do anything? Awesome! I walked out the kitchen to put the can (also a tool for capturing the fly) back, and walked back to my room thanking Him for all sorts of things in my life--a clean scan a friend got back, John-Peter having the tubes taken out, a job, an interview another friend had about a job, etc. I laughed, and thanked Him for my life, my crazy, lovely life--and walked back in to hear a familiar buzzing.
No. I sat down on my bed, took a mental breath, and asked, "ok, why, father?" No answer. I gave up and concentrated on the fly. It finally started landing, but I still couldn't catch it. I sat on the edge of the bed repeatedly, waiting for it to land. During one of these times I suddenly realized that I'd stopped thanking God; of course I stopped, the fly was back! It landed and I got up, still thinking. Yes, this irritation was back, but that didn't let me off thanking Him, did it? And it certainly didn't change all the good things I'd thanked Him for! I missed the fly and it buzzed off; I sat down again on the white comforter and sighed. Due to irritation, I was not in the mood for thanking Him. But I sighed and said, "ok, Father. Thank you for my life--thanks for what it is, how you use it, how you teach me, even with a fly." I smiled as I asked Him to make the praise sincere and He did--and then realized that the fly had buzzed near the window again. "Wait, wait" I heard in my head. I stood still; the fly landed. "There"--I saw my purple notepad, about as big as my hand. "Now"--I smacked the fly and flew against the screen, dead. I thanked Him and curled up in bed.
Yes, God, thank you for the lessons you teach through flies--and thanks for teaching me how to stop them!
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