I struggled over what to write today. With less than six weeks of school left, there’s a lot going on, not to mention a big fundraiser I’m involved with that’s scheduled for June 15. On top of that, I’m doing the yearbook again and am facing a deadline. The thought of putting my blog posting on hold crossed by mind, but I really don’t want to wait over seven weeks for the dust to settle. Still, I needed a subject to write about. So, last night I pulled a book from the shelf written by Alice Wilson called Manton Yesteryears. It talks about some of the families that settled here in the 1800’s, the Indians they encountered, and the businesses some of the residents owned over the decades. Apparently, it took Mrs. Wilson over thirty years to write the book. After looking it over, I got inspired. Maybe I'll use it to write Manton Monday next week.
Today I had no intentions of writing a blog post, yet here I am. Thanks—or no thanks—to a rather large insect, I’m sitting here typing away with a swollen finger.
Yes, the bee got me.
After my daughter and I arrived home about an hour ago, she settled down to do homework and I tackled the kitchen. After emptying the dishwasher and putting all the clean dishes away, I started to fill it back up again with the few plates and cups from breakfast.
Loading a dishwasher is mindless work. You tend not to look at what you’re grabbing, which is what happened tonight. I went for the last coffee mug on the counter when I felt an intense sting. Yow! By some miracle I didn't drop the cup, but carefully placed it in the rack. That’s when I noticed the little bugger (it was actually a pretty big bee) crawling on the dishwasher door. He (or she) seemed lethargic, but I tell you, there was nothing lackluster about its sting.
My daughter tells me to put ice on it, and I assured her I will after I finish cleaning up the kitchen. I’m not going to let a bee keep me from my chores—or from blogging for that matter. I’m just tickled I have something to blog about. My finger is swollen and my hand itches, but I can still type.
It’s the little, unexpected things in life God uses to rouse our creativity. Okay, so a painful bee sting may not be the most desirable method of inspiration, but I’m still thankful.
In case you’re curious about what happened to the bee: I scooped it up in a cup and released it outside. Don’t tell my husband. He believes in squishing six and eight-legged offenders.