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We're All Bees

I had a rather bizarre situation happen this week in my house with bees. Yes, bees. I was having a lovely cup of tea with my friend Di when a really huge bee flew into the lounge from the patio doors. No biggy, just a bee, we commented on the size of it and then carried on the conversation. Except the buzzing didn’t get quieter, it got louder, and after a minute or so I noticed that Di wasn’t really looking at me anymore, she was looking just past me because it wasn’t just one bee that had flown into the lounge, but seven.

There were seven bees with more bees trying to get in.

Well. I’ve nothing against bees, but my lounge is not the place where they’re going to find pollen. In pondering my bizarre bee experience this week I did a bit of reading about how bees follow each other to find what they’re looking for.

Did you know, you probably do because you’re very clever (I can tell), that the way bees communicate where to find the crème de la crème of pollen is by doing a wee wiggle dance back at the hive? I love that. Imagine the hubby asking where his keys are and instead answering I communicated via interpretive dance where the keys would be. That would be so fun. Fun for me, not for him.

Anyway, back to the bees in my lounge. I can only assume that whichever bee did the dance that morning it got a little lost in translation. Because all of a sudden all the bees thought my lounge was the place they were going to hit the jackpot. No bees. Just no.

So, to stop more bees entering we closed the doors and windows and then set about trying to encourage the bees to exit the lounge, guiding them with a bit of card towards the door, opening it just a crack ushering them out, and then shutting the doors again because the bees were still confused and thinking that my lounge was their mecca. Some bees were compliant, others were downright stubborn and getting themselves in quite the tizzy at the thought of going towards the freedom of the day where flowers and pollen were in abundance, they were determined to burrow themselves behind the curtains, where, had they stayed, certain death would await them from suffocation in the heat.

Eventually, after much intentionality and cajoling, Di and I saved each and every bee. Not one was left behind. Thank you. Thank you very much.

You might wonder why I’m telling you this story about bees. Here’s what Holy Spirit downloaded to me a few days later. I’m telling you about the bees, because I am a bee. And I suspect you might be too.

Hear me out.