Now Buying Stock in Raid...

As a general rule, I do not particularly care for bugs. Especially the stinging kind. PARTICULARLY the stinging kind. As a child I had many episodes (okay, three or four) of being stung, and I really don't want to repeat them. Then there was the time I was pregnant with Kiddo and we were leaving Piney (our former vacation spot) when a huge, fanged, rabid wasp stung me for no reason, causing so much anxiety that I had to call Kat and ask her to call her doctor friend to make sure wasp stings can't affect pregnancy. No, I'm not physically allergic to stings, but psychologically...they don't make an EpiPen big enough.

So, Sunday morning I'm on Praise Team. Our Worship Pastor, Brent, is singing his heart out on Jeff Johnson's updated version of the old hymn, "O Glorious Day." Suddenly, from the middle of the darkened sanctuary, a wasp decides his shirtsleeve looks like a good place to land. We all watched as the wasp slowly descended and alighted on his goldenrod colored shirt. Our Pastor Rick had been stung while he was preaching a few months ago, so we were aware that these puppies don't play around.

Well, he got through the song, seemingly oblivious to the despicable insect on his person. The wasp flew off for a few seconds, then came back just as he was strumming the last chord, landing on his ring as his hand came up in the air from the guitar. He left his hand suspended until the last strains of music died down, then said, "Am I scaring you? 'Cause he's scaring me!" And flicked the wasp onto the floor, where I hoped he squashed it.

See, I was the next person to go down on the front stage right where he had been. So, as I'm walking past him I squeakily whispered, "Did you kill it?" Well, no, he hadn't. It had flown away before he had the chance to.

I started the song with no problems. Until the second verse. Here comes mean Mr. Wasp. I see him coming at me from the corner of my eye as I'm TRYING to worship. The demon wasp would have none of it. He lands right on the front of my jacket...while I am singing. I'm sorry, but I just couldn't be as calm about it as Brent was. He told us later that he knew the whole time that that stupid bug was there on his sleeve. Well, I just couldn't be that collected.

I looked down at the wasp and, still clinging to the microphone in one hand, took my other hand and swatted it on the floor. Then, still trying to sing, did a little dance trying to step on the thing to rid us of his menace. Nope. The wasp won and flew off. I prayed HARD that he wouldn't come back.

Evidently the Lord felt like I needed to learn a lesson in humility this morning, because the wasp came back. Landing on my jacket in the very same spot as before. This time I couldn't hold it together and swatted and danced and apologized all in the course of three seconds. Again, the wasp was faster than I was and flew off.

But I kept singing. I was determined I was not going to let that cursed bug mess up my love song to the Lord. I sang stronger than ever and finally finished the song, albeit with a knot in my stomach.

As I walked into the sanctuary for second service I noticed it was markedly chillier in there, and I wondered why they turned the temperature down. Then it hit me. Warmer air stirs wasps up. I didn't care if I had to wear a parka if it meant I didn't have to deal with that wasp again.

And, thankfully, second service went off without a hitch. Hopefully they'll do some searching and find the nest. We have such a big sanctuary that it will not be easy.

Maybe I'll just carry a bottle of Raid with me to church from now on.