So...I just got stung by a bee...or wasp...or yellow jacket...not sure what it was, but it made me realize the last time I got stung I was five. I actually remember it vividly. Sunny day, Paul and Evelyn's front yard, picked a flower, a daisy actually, and a bee sting. Although it hurt, I think I was even angrier about the injustice of the sneak attack. After all, I had no intention of hurting the bee. I didn't even know he was there. I was shocked by how unfair it seemed. Remember when you thought life was fair?
I grew up thinking that the quality of one's life was based on the fruits of one's own labors. Not to quote Jim Carey, but to quote Jim Carey "I'm getting what I deserve...I'm reaping what I've sown..." Then after that went to shit, I grew up thinking that the Lord sent you challenges to make you grow (but was promised said challenges wouldn't be more than you could handle).
But tonight, as I sit and ponder another sneak bee attack, and look at his lifeless corpse in my dishtowel on the floor...I realize that not only is life not fair, but it's unexpected. It's unmanageable, and even when you try to bite off only what you can chew...oftentimes you still choke on it (like raw carrots, for instance. No matter how small I chew those, I still end up with them stuck in my throat. Crazy, right?)
So, I came to blog. About how I wish I had appreciated times when my biggest headaches were how much I hated tomatoes and boys...but my attention was caught by the updates on my cousin, Michelle's, blog. I've never been slapped in the face by my laptop, but tonight was pretty damn close. If ever there was a time for me to question the injustice of life, it's been the past couple years.
My cousin Michelle is...wait...was six years younger than me. Although I guess when she passed away she was only five years younger. She is the model daughter of God. Always been pure of heart and mighty of soul. Of course, once someone passes, it's easy to say that. But I'm for real on this...One of many examples? I remember when we were a lot younger, I was playing Salt and Peppa on the cassette tape and she turned it off and said it was "naughty". I just thought they were "here" and wanted me to "push it back". But my Michelle, she had a close relationship with her Savior, was caring and loving, and while we weren't close as we got older, you know how with family you just...."are"? Well, we just were.
So, somebody tell me why it was in the plan for her to die? Why would this righteous mother of three be taken from her three children and husband, at the young age of 28?
Serioulsy. Take my brother instead. He's mostly useless.
Michelle told my mom (about a week before she died) that she was watching her funeral. People came to say goodbye. Us included. Do you know what it feels like to go pay respects when the soul hasn't left the body? She was so gracious about it. This was a gift she gave to me that I feel unworthy of recieving, and one that she gave to many, many others. If I were dying, I'm not sure I would be so unselfish.
So you see. Tonight I would love to go back to hating tomatoes.
But I can't. So I must make the most of my life. Live because I can. Hope for the future, but NEVER forget the lessons of the past. And never,ever forget those who have taught me lessons in their 80's censorship, kindness of heart, dry wit, and gone to meet death with bravery and faith.
I love you Michelle. You are my hero. My family.
