When I couldn't find the perfect toy to play with, I turned my attention to whatever insects or creepy crawlers I could find. It never took very long to find a multi-legged playmate.
One of my favorites was the roly poly bug. They were so versatile and willing to play along with my hair-brained antics. After enjoying a one-sided conversation with the little fella, I would gently poke him with a stick as he instantly recoiled into a perfect circle.
Give a kid anything in circular form, and it will eventually become a ball of some sort, though these little bugs were better suited as marbles or musket balls for my imaginary rifle. When I tuckered out my little friends, it was time to seek out my beloved banana spiders.
These critters are anything but little and they are pretty friendly unless you are a grasshopper. Unfortunately, for the grasshoppers, I felt it my duty to provide them as nutrition for the spiders. Just a quick brush of my toes across the grass and grasshoppers magically appeared, ready for the menu of my awaiting arachnids. It was great fun for me and the spiders, not so much for the grasshoppers.
The one bug I would not partner with for playtime was a roach. Even as a kid, I was repelled by their shiny wings that reminded me of the kid at school who only washed his hair on holidays and leap year.
Plus, the darn varmints can fly, and usually in my direction. I often wished that I could abide touching them so that I could introduce them to the Banana Spiders, but I suspect the spiders' taste buds were too refined for these vile creatures.
In later years, I was a teacher who had long forgotten about the Bug Kingdom. Teaching kids has a tendency to bring to memory many things you wished you could forget. Such was the case when one of my best students handed me a sealed envelope that was said to hold important information.
Since this seemed urgent, I stopped teaching and opened the envelope, only to discover a live Palmetto bug, roughly the size of Godzilla. His antennae waved affectionately to me, as I gasped in terror while retreating so hastily that I tripped over my portable chalkboard. Needless to say, I never regained my composure or control over the class on that particular day.
My close encounter with the palmetto bug reminded me of the snack bar I managed while in college. I was a student supervisor, tasked with keeping the joint in top shape and bug free. Roaches are opportunists, so any place that has food available is a place they will call home, but don't think about that the next time you eat out.
One evening, I set out to annihilate the pesky moochers by deploying a roach bomb in the snack bar. As the toxic fumes wafted through the room, I headed to lock the door, but I was unable to get there before a lady came bounding cheerfully in, hoping for a last-minute diet coke.
I managed to keep her attention away from the grill area, which was a good thing. The bomb was having the desired, though unsightly, effect of driving the dazed and dying roaches up the wall, literally. As they fell like a summer rain in all directions, I hurried the kind lady out of there before she needed an umbrella to save her coke from contamination. She never saw a thing.
The term "crazy as a sprayed roach" has taken on new meaning to me, and life has resembled this phrase on several occasions. When everything seems to go haywire at once, I can tremble like a roach under the influence of their favorite pesticide.
Even under immense stress, we can choose to let Jesus divert our attention from impending disaster so that we can focus on Him. That way, whatever is falling around us, He can shield our "diet coke" from contamination. Plus, we can regain a sense of calm while He clears out the bugs and turns disaster to a demonstration of His goodness. He is, indeed, the friend that sticks closer than a brother.