When I was knee-high to a grasshopper, honeysuckles grew in abundance on our back fence. I was small but brave, following the lead of my older brother and sister in whatever they did. They promised if I gently pulled the flower apart I would get to taste the small drop of nectar. They weren’t wrong. The long white tube-shaped flower delivered just as they had said. The shimmering drop of nectar was pulled from the small bloom and my tongue caught it just before it dripped to the ground. It was what sunshine should taste like. Nothing else in the world like it… until I tried goldenrod honey.
God has been showing me a lot about peace this year. What has stuck out to me most is that peace is not a byproduct of Jesus but rather IS Jesus. The more we seek and abide in him, the more peace we feel because his Holy Spirit dwells in us. Let me provide an analogy:
Many beekeepers prefer using a veil when inspecting their hives. Thousands of bees literally around us. Most of the time they are kind, but they are created to defend their hive. The sting is powerful. Last April, on Easter, I didn’t wear my veil and as I quickly moved something in the bee yard, a guard bee stung me in the temple. The sting to my face really brought new meaning to “oh death where is your sting”. It took three days for the swelling to subside. It was painful and embarrassing. I should have worn my veil.
She took flight from her hive’s landing board, leaving tens of thousands of bees at home in the hive. She was just over twenty-two days old and this was her sixth and final post in the colony. Her four wings strong and glistening under the spring sun, the siren song of nectar was calling her every fiber to come and drink. Dust particles hit her fuzzy body during flight, causing her to become positively electric. No matter the dangers, her mission was to find a vast nectar and pollen source and report back to the others. Through a north-south-sun-circular-rotation dance, she would shimmy and shake to reveal her treasured findings when she returned to the hive. The “waggle dance”, was a perfectly choreographed series of abdominal wiggles that she would dance over the hexagon comb. Her sisters would pay close attention to the direction – more wiggles, left and right movements, the farther the source.