Fluttterrrrrr, ‘tink’.
Tink.
“What’s that sound? I don’t know… Check…”
”OMG, Something just landed on my face!”
Rushing to the light, illumination yields two-fold, an understanding and a horror.
There was a 200-pound cockroach on the ceiling fan light. Its wing span was four feet wide and it spoke as it hissed, “Yesssssss, I am here for youuuuuu.”
Before it could get the last syllable from its demonic teeth I slapped it, killing it (supposedly), challenge accepted. The beast was dead.
Three hours later while we sleep,“Tink…”
“Hmmmm…”, as I peer through the darkness a sudden thud shatters the silence, my wife screaming, then breaking, shattering rang through the darkness. Coming to my feet, light again, I see my bride in agony and the globe of the light fixture destroyed as if the beast had one last hope of felling us, bouncing from her back to the floor.
Living in the South of Georgia has its perks. Pestilence is not one of them unless you enjoy the constant barrage of fear, filth, and fighting for your life.
Roaches are a thing one must contend with and are on a scale like no other. Especially the large ones that fly. This was 1999 and Robyn and I had just moved into our first real home. It was a fixer foreclosure and to save money, we chose to do the clearing, fixing, and harvesting of wildlife ourselves.
We worked hard and together, enjoying the time preparing walls, clearing out closets, cleaning, and refinishing wood floors. The most amazing transformation was the kitchen. Some prior damage required a little creativity, so a drop ceiling was a better budget option than trying to remove and restore older lights and plaster.
A few weeks in, everything was done. Robyn and I roamed the small kitchen, setting pots and getting food prepared to have our first meal in our new home. We were proud.
The aroma of fresh food filled the air, among the steamy wetness of the atmosphere of South Georgia, a warm kitchen is a familiar and endearing experience. You mind the heat cause soon you’ll eat! (original poem here)
About twenty minutes in, we discovered we were not alone.
Almost like an alien force or demonic presence, small black dots began to crawl from the ceiling, down the walls, and onto the counters, the stove, and the tables. Hundreds of tiny roaches invaded the space as an army would take over a battlefield. The first few were repulsive, the first twenty we decided to postpone the meal, and within minutes, we decided to leave the house. So we went to Applebees, abandoning our meal, our home, and our mission. Ew!
Now this is going to get a bit long, so bear with me. In the fifth grade, I was eating lunch in the cafeteria. One of my favorite foods was the homemade biscuits. It was rare to have them, and this particular day they were coupled with chicken fingers and honey. Placing these three things together was like a recipe from the divine for a nine-year-old. I love it!
Taking my tray to the table, I sorted my food, established my tactical resolve on the cutlery, and carefully opened the biscuit.
What was this? A chocolate chip? NO - it was the lower thorax of a roach, nicely and cleanly cooked into the batter of my biscuit. I gagged. Hollie, a classmate asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing I said, it’s gross.” I de-plated the bread and sat it on the table.
“Well, if you’re not going to eat it, then put it back on your plate!” she remarked.
After this debate carried on a bit, the teacher noticed Holly’s insistence and discovered my dilemma. “Take this up there and show them, James.” So I did.
The lunch lady looked carefully, poked the partial bug with her finger, walked to the trash can, flicked off the little treat, then handed me the biscuit, “Here ya go, I got it off for you.”
I teared up, walked back to the table, and continued my fight with Holly who could not understand why I was not eating or why I wouldn’t place this biscuit back on my plate.
Some takeaways from these experiences, fifteen years apart:
You can’t avoid bugs.
Pestilence, like suffering and failure, are inevitable part of life. The question of tolerance is how much can we handle? How much of a roach needs to be present before you decide you won’t eat something? While we have different tolerances for proximity and percentages of bugs in or around our food, we likewise have tolerances for what we will engage in or receive from others.
Setting boundaries in life and relationships are natural and kind part of intimacy. Some boundaries require compromise while others are firm.
When we remove the bug, the food is still contaminated.
Flicking the abdomen off of the biscuit didn’t erase the nasty. Just like some situations in life are worked through and forgiven, the stain remains. However, the stain can be overcome by lasting change, patience, and communication. Even in spaces of reconciliation, the pain of the past can haunt us. We have to gain the tools in a way that creates authenticity and empowerment for ourselves and those around us.
A complete remodel, clean and new, can still be infested.
Hidden dangers cannot be overcome by outward beauty. We can do a whole lot of work in life, personally. But other people can still be lurking in the walls waiting to upset the purity of our lives. We must also be careful not to work on posturing change, but really labor for internal change. We can only pretend for so long before the bugs start to show themselves, especially in heat-driven situations.
These funny stories and side-hacked metaphors aren’t really going to help us when we’re in the throes of pain and suffering. I can attest to the fact that platitudes and stories are the last things needed in the midst of chaos. But, as you contemplate the facts that suffering is inevitable, failure is guaranteed, and discomfort is common, know that you are alive and living a real life.
Embracing the ‘bugs’ of life pushes us toward success. While defined differently depending on goals and plans, success at its core is persistence and wisdom. We don’t have to enjoy the ride we’re on presently, but success is when we know it’s just a short trip to a different destination with a new set of bugs awaiting.
Eventually, we will arrive at either a less buggy life or we will be strong enough to say, “I can do this…” and we do.
You can do life. You will. I can help, just ask.
Enjoyed this buggy article. And thanks for reminding me why I like the ice and cold, to reduce that insect population. 😊 I enjoyed this reflection: “We must also be careful not to work on posturing change, but really labor for internal change.” My takeaway was that the bugs are always there. (We have our tick infestation here.) It matters more how we react to bugs than the mere existence of them. And don’t eat that roachy biscuit James! 😆 ✌️
Thanks Mark!
posturing security and peace only stifles our ability to truly know who we are.
We have ticks also! Deadly!