AJ and a LATTE

I am not a spider person. I don’t do creepy crawlies or slitheries.  As a child I regularly had night terrors, not just nightmares but dreams that would awaken the house with my screams.  Each time involved some kind of spider or snake (or Nazi Germany circa 1941 invading my school, but that is much longer than this post!).  This summer as I sat on my back porch in the mornings I found an odd friend. 

Only very early in the mornings could I see my friend.  The web was always very large and intricate with detailing I wish I could emulate in my crochet.  Ordinarily I would get a shoe or a broom and kill the spider but this one was too big.  Her body was about the size of my thumbnail with legs the size around of toothpicks.  In all she was about the size of a half dollar coin.  Each morning I would come out and admire her handiwork while keeping at my VERY safe distance.  On Monday her abdomen had grown larger and she was very light colored.  My guess is she was bursting with babies. After swallowing down the bile of thousands of little creepy crawlies, I studied her in the gleam of the flashlight.  Her web, so delicate and precise, was spun flawlessly and she perched unmoving while I looked at her. I realized that I had grown fond of the old girl.  I looked forward to coming out and gazing at her handiwork while checking to see that she was still lying guard over the back porch.

This morning, after having slept until my alarm the last couple of mornings, I hurried out to greet my scary, hairy porch guest.  I was sure I would either be able to see movement in her abdomen or it would be dark and almost depleted. She’s gone. There is a single web between several lights, a neglected leaf lying tangled, and no guest. I honestly feel a sense of loss, a grief. She’s gone-no grandeur, no bravado, no goodbye. Isn’t it odd that even at the loss of something that is terrifying we feel a sense of grief?  I experienced that very heavily after cancer treatments.  Cancer had become my identifier-what made me unique, different, special. When I was finished, I was just like everyone else.  I missed that identifying marker.  Don’t get me wrong.  I am glad the cancer battle is fifteen years ago and I am relatively healthy. I don’t want to go back, but I returned to “the norm”–average.  I had grown accustomed to coming out and checking on my spider to know that life was still on track.  Nothing had changed.  Today she is gone and I will miss seeing her handiwork and her progress.  I will return to my average life doing normal things, but to the spider I am grateful. She shared beauty with me every morning.  She knew her time was short and I took it for granted.  The old adage “you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone” is completely applicable here.  I didn’t appreciate her while she was here. I took her for granted.  There are so many little things in my life that live in this category: warm coffee, hot water, mats on the bathroom floor, healthy food for lunch, a soft pillow, a great job. The list can go on and on. Yes, this is just lipstick on a pig for a post about gratitude, but that beauty came from the strangest place! Today I challenge you to find and acknowledge something beautiful in a way you don’t normally expect.  I look back and see how beautiful my cancer journey was. I miss those wonderful people, but I am so grateful for that time because it allowed me a chance to minister to so many people. That bittersweet journey has allowed me to hold the hands of friends who are fighting cancer. It has allowed me to love on those receiving treatments. It gave me a first-hand knowledge of the fighting spirit we as children of God possess.  

I will miss my backyard spider, but today I revel in the beauty around me and the backward blessings and beauty that fill my world. Thank you spider for a summer of watching, learning, and curiosity.  I hope you and your babies thrive…at someone else’s house!

Until next time….