There are no screens on my windows. (This might explain a write up
or two of mine.) But that isn't to say insects can just come and go as they please. I have a 'pet' spider
. I don't bother him and he doesn't bother me and we have a nice symbiotic relationship
. Every day or two he builds the most beautiful web
in my bedroom window, catches something yummy
to eat overnight and then (in the next day or two) dismantles it.
I don't normally get to see him do the construction or the deconstruction. Yesterday afternoon I got home at that time of day right between late afternoon and early night (dusk?) and he was there building his web. This leads me to believe he takes it apart right around dawn, but when isn't so much important.
Last night though, I sat and watched him build it, or at least I was pretty sure I watched him build it. I couldn't see it at all. I was just watching a funny little spider making funny little circles in the air. Sometimes, especially in the morning when the sun catches it, the web is so clear, so beautiful and shining. Sometimes I can't see it at all, but I know its there because I see the little spider hovering in its center, floating in space.
This morning I woke up and was still thinking about the spider and his web, because that's pretty much all I do. Now, lately I've been stressing a lot about the good things in life. I think about God a lot. I know he has a plan, for me as well as for everyone else. It's just that sometimes I really feel I need to see it to be able to cope, and I just can't. Other times, it's all so straightforward and laid out in front of me. I don't pretend to have lofty insights into the nature of the world, it's more like when the plan is clear it's come down to my level, simple enough to be glimpsed and appreciated, in its simple beauty.
The spiderweb made sense to me this morning. Even as I watched it being built, I couldn't glimpse a strand no matter how hard I squinted or stared, no matter at which angle I approached it. The only time I get to see the web is when the whole world turns around and the sun shines clear upon it. Sometimes, even though I know it is happening, it just isn't there before my eyes, even when I know I could stick out my finger and mess it all up. I know I would feel the gentle destruction. That's life too. I know where I am now, I could act to destroy what I cannot yet see. It reminds me that the whole pattern is still there. It's comforting.