"Two-legged creatures we are supposed to love as we love ourselves. The four-legged, also, can come to seem pretty important. But six legs are too many from the human standpoint." ~Joseph W. Krutch

It started with just a few in the kitchen one day.  Yellow jackets, that is.  I pulled out the fly swatter and killed them, thinking that they probably entered through an open window or door.  But then we saw more of them, and a week later I killed 17 in one day.  That was not ok!  Upon further investigation, I found their site of entry - the fireplace.  When I realized this, I went outside and looked up - hundreds of the little creatures could be seen swarming around the top of the chimney. 

Jeff got home from work, and I greeted him with the fly swatter in hand along with the simple statement, "We have a problem."  After sealing off their site of entry and consulting a professional exterminator, Jeff determined that we could rid ourselves of the little boogers by lighting a hot, smoky fire, followed by a bug fogger.  So last weekend - when outside temperatures soared into the 80's - we had a constant fire burning in our fireplace.  I'm sure our neighbors wondered about us when they saw the smoke rising from our chimney!  After a weekend of fire, Jeff decided that should be enough - the yellow jackets and their nest should be long gone, so there was no need to set off a fogger.

Then Monday came, and after I killed two more yellow jackets in the house, I built another fire (yes, on another 80-degree day).  We've had no fires and no signs of yellow jackets since Monday, so maybe the problem has been solved.

One interesting thing I noticed about the yellow jackets that invaded our home was that they were not very aggressive.  Quite the opposite - they seemed to just stay in one spot waiting for me to kill them.  Some of them were even on the floor barely moving as if they were hoping someone with a fly swatter would come along and finish them off.  Although I was happy to oblige, I was curious to find out what was wrong with them, so I went to my ever-trusty friend Google to find out.  And I learned a lot!

Did you know that yellow jackets are like bees in their social behavior?  Social insects live in colonies, and their sole focus is doing everything for the good of their family.  Each colony is founded by a lone queen that spent her previous winter in hibernation.  Once she emerges, she feeds on insects until she is ready to lay eggs, and then she builds a 25 - 40 cell nest, laying eggs there, and waiting for her first batch of daughter workers.  After these eggs hatch and the new brood matures, the workers take over the care of the nest and the queen.  The queen then remains inside the nest laying more eggs.  Colonies can quickly expand to 4,000 to 5,000.  (I guess I should be glad I only killed about two dozen in my house!)

Those who study yellow jackets have determined that they are not "pre-programmed," but they actually learn from experience, especially when it comes to finding food.  The workers of the colony literally work themselves to death, and can easily switch roles in the nest if the need is there -- if, for example, someone fails to show up for their assigned task, the worker next to them assumes they are dead and will take over the missing comrade's job.

Unlike bees, yellow jackets can sting more than once.  In fact, they are known to follow the object of their wrath if you try to run from them.  And they are extremely defensive when their nests are disturbed.  They also have a built-in alarm and if attacked or killed will release a smell that alerts their little buddies to come to their aid. 

In the fall, all of the yellow jackets in a colony die except for new queens, who will go into hibernation and start the process all over again.  This is probably why the ones that made it inside our home seemed sick - they were likely at the end of their life cycle.  And I was happy to put them out of their misery a little earlier than nature by itself would allow!

In thinking about all I learned, the truth is that these pesky, painful little nuisances can teach us a lot.  What if we were all as intent as yellow jackets are in doing everything we do for the good of our families - both the family that shares our DNA, as well as the one that we belong to in Christ?  And wouldn't it be great to know if one of us is attacked, that all of our family members will immediately come to our aid?  Not to mention having a work ethic that doesn't stop, and being willing to roll up our sleeves and step in to help when a fellow worker can't complete their task. 

Yes, as the title above states, six-legged creatures are too much for me to love.  But hopefully, their presence in my home will remind me to love the two-legged creatures in my world a little more than I did before.

“‎You can clutch the past so tightly to your chest that it leaves your arms too full to embrace the present.” ~ Jan Glidewel

I have a problem.  My family makes fun of me about it.  The problem is that I am always deleting apps on my phone to make room for my pictures - especially pictures of my precious grand babies.  So when I can't access information on a particular app, my family will just roll their eyes because they know why -- pictures that represent memories fill up my electronic memory.

Last week I decided to do something about that problem, and I followed my son's advice to store all of my photos in Google Photos.  It took two full days to do that -- I had 15,312 photos.  No joke.  After I got all of them successfully uploaded, I spent some time browsing through them, which took me back as I re-lived the moments gone by captured in those snapshots. 

It's easy to get lost in memories if we let ourselves.  Lydia Millet wrote, "I have always wished the present to resemble memory: because the present can be flat at times, and bald as a road. But memory is never like that. It makes hills of feeling in collapsed hours, a scene of enclosure made all precious by its frame.” That's true.  We often tend to view the past as "the good old days," failing to remember the difficulties.

I recently talked with someone close to my age about our grown children.  She was very wistful, wishing aloud that her children were still small.  She said she missed those days so much, and would go back to them in a heartbeat.  And while I do miss some of the days gone by and the innocence of my children's childhood, I would not go back.  Instead, in the words of Marty Rubin, I choose to "cherish like a son, a daughter, each irreplaceable moment."  This moment is precious.  Especially when I consider that it is truly the only "moment" I really have.  None of us has the promise of another.

I'm afraid we can get so wrapped up in the past, as we also anticipate and wish for the future, that we fail to fully experience THIS moment.  And I think we tend to do this more as we get older - after all, we have more memories to look back on.  But as I think about the past, my memories, and the feelings stirred within me by perusing those 15,312 pictures last week, I can also see how the past helps to shape the present.

For example, because of the shared experiences over the past 10,900 days we have been married, Jeff and I have a depth of love and understanding for each other today that is made possible only because of that past.  Our past has shaped us and prepared us to fully enjoy and appreciate today.  The same is true with our children, grandchildren, and friends.  The past has built and strengthened bonds.  And for that I am thankful. 

Because of the past, I see the close sibling relationships my kids have with each other today.  And the same is true of my relationship with each one of them.  I thought of all of that last weekend when I snapped this picture... A quiet moment as Becca sat quietly reading her Bible at our new kitchen table in our new house -- a house with few memories for us together, but in that moment I saw hundreds of other snapshots in my mind of that same girl sitting in another house at a different kitchen table.  And the same was true later that evening when we tried out the S'more making capability of the fireplace in our back yard.  It was a first in a way, but in so many other ways it was a continuation of a rich past of similar times that brought us to that moment. 

Kilroy J. Oldster wrote, "If a person realizes that the present moment is all that matters, they will gain an inner stillness and appreciate the beauty and joy of each day."  That's the way I want to live, don't you?  The glorious past brought me to this moment, and for that I'm thankful.  Anything beyond this moment is uncertain.  I would do well to think of that with every encounter I have with those I love, which reminds me of one of my all-time favorite quotes by Og Mandino who said, "...treat everyone you meet as if they were going to be dead by midnight. Extend to them all the care, kindness and understanding you can muster, and do it with no thought of any reward..."  That is what motivates me to always hug my loved ones when we part, and to end every conversation with them by verbally expressing that love.

Yes, memories of the past and hopes for the future have their place.  But this moment - as I sit here in my living room with my little dog Annie completely buried underneath a blanket, knowing that Jeff is currently leading his team at work in a team-building afternoon; Becca is sleeping after working the night shift in the NICU while her Jeff is traveling to an out-of-town lectureship; that Sarah and her babies are enjoying a visit from Mallory, DJ, and Avery while Ryan is heading home from work to join them; and that Caleb is at work, letting his light shine brightly there...  I am thankful for all of those things that are happening in this moment.  And eternally grateful to my Father who blesses me in all of my moments - past, present, and (if He wills) future.