I love bees. I don’t love them as much as spiders (bees don’t do thread art) but I do love them. Let’s flash back to the summer of 2000 for a moment.
In September of 1999 we moved into our house. In January of 2000 my husband’s company–a tech startup–hit the skids. We were hanging on by our teeth. I went out and got a job and began learning a lot of lessons about how it’s not always getting what you want but keeping what you’ve gotten that drives a person. The job in a bank was not a good one physically or emotionally and I did what I’ve always done when life’s tempestuous sea is battering against the gunwhale. I read books. The first book was The Beekeeper’s Apprentice by Laurie R. King. The idea of Sherlock Holmes keeping bees was a sort of super heaven for me and I sat on the front porch in the spring warmth and disappeared into that world. When I finished all of King’s series I wanted something else to read. There was a battered copy of a book in Tim’s home office that was given to us by a friend at the company. I had at first told Tim I didn’t want it in the house but since the book was someone else’s property I didn’t think I should throw it away. But it was evil and I didn’t want it around. I told him to take it back to Steven but Steven was sailing in some flotilla down to Bermuda and the book stayed in its desultory place. Finally my 30 year old self said “you have enough discernment. You read it for yourself and see for yourself. Then you can at least talk about it intelligently.”
That’s how I picked up Harry Potter and The Sorcerer’s Stone in the Summer of 2000. Anyone who knows me knows what happened next, knows how the books became so close to my heart and how in their pages I found not a lurking Satan but a loving Christ.
It wasn’t until many years later that I made the connection and saw that God’s hand is so much in everything that even as it directs events it leaves poetry in the margins.
A main character in the Harry Potter series is Dumbledore.
Dumbledore is an old word for what is now more commonly called ‘bumblebee’
Deborah (my hebrew name and almost my given English name) comes from the same word root as ‘dumbledore’ (dbr) and that root means Word
In John 1 we see that Jesus is the Living Word.
In the Middle Ages the Bee was used as a symbol of Christ himself.
It all weaves together in the prettiest of tapestries, in God signing “I Am” in the corner of the painting that is my life.
I love bees. And now bees are dying. There are several arguments as to exactly why. The cause is not yet known for certain. But it’s happening and it’s a major concern.
I know it’s trendy to keep chickens, and I can’t fault people for wanting fresh eggs, although I find chickens disgusting. Ideally more folks will start home beekeeping as well. Bees save the planet…kind of like Christ.