Outside my kitchen window a small brown spider weaves a web. I’ve watched its progress for a week now as it stretched its silk from one tall holly bush to another, entertainment for while I wash dishes. I hate spiders, but when they stay outside the window I can deal, even appreciate that they serve a purpose.
I think my animosity toward the species stems from 4th grade. We lived in Arizona, and that state has a veritable zoo of its own showcase of nasty, dangerous things. I was in bed, not sleeping (Surprise!) and staring at the wall. A shadow crept slowly up that wall, and knowing my own imagination could turn shadows into monsters, I froze. No breath, no infinitesimal movement – the shadow would go away. Only it didn’t. It continued up the wall. It was a roundish shadow, about the size of my 8-year old hand. (It might be important to note that I was the tallest kid in my 4th grade class. You look doubtful; I stopped growing that year. I know – painful.) I screamed. My parents came in and flipped on the light. Shadow equaled a large black spider; it may have had hair. Thus, current reflex to run shrieking anytime I see one; as I am a reasonable and responsible adult, I’m mostly able to repress said reflex.
A fierce tropical storm blew through yesterday, rain in solid sheets of stainless steel, wind that howled out pain. Scary stuff. Opening the back door this morning, pieces of shrubbery littered the yard and crepe myrtle blossoms decorated the grass. Clearly, the force of nature was not something with which to be trifled. I opened the blinds, and had almost forgotten about my 8-legged friend. I was surprised at my (near) delight to see that he’d (How do you know if a spider is a boy or girl?) made it through, was even re-spinning his web. He’d survived to see another sunrise. How had he made it? (You know what’s coming.)
Winds howl, rain falls, thunder cracks, and still we go on to see another sunrise. One foot in front of the other, we move through our lives confident that despite the storms that rage around us, we’ll survive to be productive, continue to thrive if we choose. There will be times that we are knocked to our knees by things we can’t control or even things we set in motion ourselves, but we will stand again. Surviving, thriving, standing – these things aren’t accomplished on our own. They always require arms to hide within, but I learned long ago that requesting another person carry that weight was far too large a burden. Those arms that hide me now can carry the world – do carry the world.
So, today I watch a small spider producing silk streams outside my kitchen window, and as long as he remains on his side of the glass, we’re good. In fact, I rather like him there. He reminds me how to survive.
The Unexpected Life 