Hate is a strong word that I generally do not care to use. While I fully understand that every creature on God’s green Earth has a purpose, I will never understand wasps. Here in GA I’ve come to accept these orange ones that are mellow and don’t bother me, but sadly they’re not the only ones here.
About 10 years back I was riding my motorcycle through the back roads of upstate New York when a wasp flew into my helmet. My brief moment of hope that it left without incident was interrupted by a sequence of stings on the right side of my neck.
In a panic, I rapidly pulled off the road and attempted to stop on a thick layer of silt and sand. Miraculously I did not wreck my bike. I then unbuttoned my helmet and ripped it off my head, tossing it clear of me. The wasp was long gone, my glasses were now broken, and I managed to escape with a half dozen stings.
So today I’m heading to church on the bike, and this time around I had zero warning. The sharp pain hit me again on the right side of my neck and I felt the thing moving. Now in this case I knew that despite the searing pain I was ok. I maintained control, pulled off into a church parking lot, and got the helmet off.
I never actually saw the thing but I knew what got me immediately. Hours later there’s still some pain but I’m ok. The lesson learned many years ago kept me from nearly wrecking my new bike or breaking my glasses. No need to panic this time, I got off the road safely and eliminated the threat.
All that said though, I still hate wasps. When I finally get to meet Jesus we’re going to have a chat about those things.
End rambling. God bless.
