As I drove home yesterday, there was a little bug on my windshield. It looked like a green stinkbug, with wings, which I am pretty sure doesn’t exist. Anyhow, this little bug was holding on for his dear life. You see I drive some on the highway to get home. And there he was, right in the middle of the windshield.
As I approached 45 miles per hour, he was still planted with his little legs clamped down. Then 60 miles and I thought for sure he was going to fly right off. After all, sometimes you’re the windshield and sometimes you’re the bug.
But he held on. Shook quite a bit, but held on. I drove another ten miles until I reached my exit and finally pulled into the driveway. I was sure he would be dead: stuck on the windshield but gooey and sad. I imagined a little bug funeral with a Windex-salute and one final goodbye before I would squeegee him off into the ether—or at least off the windshield.
But no, he just stood up. Looked around with his little head and crawled off the car. Flew off into my front yard.
Now, I know you must thinking: flying stinkbugs aren’t real.
It might seem small but really it gives a little hope in these times of bad news and warning, that maybe I can hold on too even when our political rhetoric, unemployment rates and the environmental crisis seem to be spinning out of control. I mean even the stinkbug is holding on. Isn’t this in a Psalm? Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself.” (Psalm 83:4)
I guess I won’t be buying that self-sustaining farm in New Zealand—not yet anyway.