Let the Danger Drift

My six-year-old came inside, flushed from the freedom of a spring afternoon. Sitting down to take her shoes off, she was oblivious to a small bee crawling away just an inch from her skin. I happened to spot it, and thinking I would save her from certain agony I told her to get up slowly and come toward me. I didn’t tell her why. (Anyone who has made the mistake of letting a child know they’re in imminent danger knows that logic.) She trusted me, understanding that something was up. In an effort to stand, she started to put her hand on the ground for leverage…directly on top of the bee.

I saw it in slow motion, and tried to stop her. But that only made the urgency more real, and in her rush to get out of the situation she collided with the one thing she needed to avoid.

It hurt.

The irony is, the bee was crawling away. It was close, but crawling. And if I had been just a little more patient, taken another moment to assess the situation, she likely could have avoided the pain.

Sometimes in life, we scramble. We see something that might hurt and we try to get away from it, as soon as possible, at any cost. There is a place for urgency in the face of danger. But there is also a place for stillness. A place for letting the danger drift away. A place for recognizing that the thing we fear likely has no interest in hurting us.

May your worries walk away from you today (or at least not send you howling in pain to your mother’s lap).