Day Twenty-Eight: Bee Stings, Hummingbirds, and Foot-in-Mouth Disease
There was one thing I didn't tell you about the day I got attacked by the army of bees: that playground was where I saw my first California hummingbird, the week we moved in.
You should know that I absolutely love hummingbirds. Next to kingfishers, they could be my favourite birds in the whole world. They remind me that there is breath-taking beauty in the small things. They remind me to keep my eyes open.
I've looked for hummingbirds at that playground every single time we've gone back since that first sighting. But now, I admit, I don't really want to go back.
There's just something about being stung repeatedly by adorably fuzzy yet vicious bees.
But today I was thinking about stopping by, mostly because it's the closest one to the house but also partially because I have a serious hummingbird addiction. I had pretty much decided against going (because BEES and STINGING) when I realized that the question was not whether or not I was going to get stung again but whether or not it would be worth it to get stung again should I manage to see another hummingbird.
I decided that the risk was worth it, so we went.
And I got stung another dozen times.
Kidding.
That didn't happen. There was not a bee in sight.
But my bravery was rewarded by three hummingbird sightings!
Also kidding.
That didn't happen either.
We went. The kids played. I kept an eye out for the birds and the bees (ahem!) and then, when we were about to leave the playground without anything exciting happening, another mom and kid dropped in and struck up a conversation with me, and I proceeded to royally put my foot in my mouth. Twice.
I walked home kicking myself and blaming the playground for being cursed.
But then I realized just how appropriate that moment was. See, here's the thing about doing something new (moving, starting a new job, starting a new relationship, pretty much any new season in life): with it comes risk.
You can be subjected to pain (bee stings, hello!). You can make a fool of yourself (multiple times, in my case). Or you can experience the joy of discovering incredible beauty (the hummingbird, of course).
The thing is: none of those will happen if you don't get off your rear and go to the playground.
So here's the question I'm asking you: is it worth it? Is the goal of discovery and beauty and life worth the risk of potential pain and humiliation?
I'd say yes. What would you say?
Incidentally, while I didn't see a hummingbird at the playground today, I did see one on my way there. Read into that what you will.
You should know that I absolutely love hummingbirds. Next to kingfishers, they could be my favourite birds in the whole world. They remind me that there is breath-taking beauty in the small things. They remind me to keep my eyes open.
I've looked for hummingbirds at that playground every single time we've gone back since that first sighting. But now, I admit, I don't really want to go back.
There's just something about being stung repeatedly by adorably fuzzy yet vicious bees.
But today I was thinking about stopping by, mostly because it's the closest one to the house but also partially because I have a serious hummingbird addiction. I had pretty much decided against going (because BEES and STINGING) when I realized that the question was not whether or not I was going to get stung again but whether or not it would be worth it to get stung again should I manage to see another hummingbird.
I decided that the risk was worth it, so we went.
And I got stung another dozen times.
Kidding.
That didn't happen. There was not a bee in sight.
But my bravery was rewarded by three hummingbird sightings!
Also kidding.
That didn't happen either.
 |
| No pictures of bees (except this one) or hummingbirds but you can see here that my mouth IS large enough to fit at least one of my oversized feet. |
We went. The kids played. I kept an eye out for the birds and the bees (ahem!) and then, when we were about to leave the playground without anything exciting happening, another mom and kid dropped in and struck up a conversation with me, and I proceeded to royally put my foot in my mouth. Twice.
I walked home kicking myself and blaming the playground for being cursed.
But then I realized just how appropriate that moment was. See, here's the thing about doing something new (moving, starting a new job, starting a new relationship, pretty much any new season in life): with it comes risk.
You can be subjected to pain (bee stings, hello!). You can make a fool of yourself (multiple times, in my case). Or you can experience the joy of discovering incredible beauty (the hummingbird, of course).
The thing is: none of those will happen if you don't get off your rear and go to the playground.
So here's the question I'm asking you: is it worth it? Is the goal of discovery and beauty and life worth the risk of potential pain and humiliation?
I'd say yes. What would you say?
Incidentally, while I didn't see a hummingbird at the playground today, I did see one on my way there. Read into that what you will.
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| Make sure you've read the rest of the series. |
