A few days ago, I took my daughter to the train station, about a 7-mile drive.
As we pulled out of our driveway, I noticed a honeybee on my side window, close to the middle of the pane. It was a foggy morning so the little girl must have lost her way.
In the past, when I start accelerating and there’s a bug on the glass, the insect takes off (or the wind “encourages” her to take off). But not this little bee. She hung on tightly.
Part of the drive was along a stretch of road with a faster speed limit, reaching over 50mph. I wanted to get my daughter to the train early, so I couldn’t drive much slower. At the same time, I was getting very invested in the bee, still hunkered down and holding on.
My daughter suggested that we take the freeway for part of the trip, but I protested, concerned that the bee’s grip wouldn’t be able to handle the acceleration.
Through faster and slower speeds, my tiny hitchhiker clung hard. Her little wings seemed to be fluttering, battered by the wind, but she was not letting go.
And then we finally arrived at the station. My daughter made her train with time to spare and I sat in the lot nearby waiting for it to depart. In the meantime, my little bee had started to preen herself, cleaning up her antennae and straightening the hairs on her legs.
I was so impressed with her ability to hold on!
By this time, the fog had lifted but it was still very cloudy–not proper bee-navigation weather. And I was concerned that if the bee took off from the station, 7 miles from home, she’d never find her way back. I needed to return her to familiar lands!
Now I was 100% into this. And apparently, so was my little bee. Because in the process of grooming she had edged closer to the frame of the car window. Smart girl, because that meant less air resistance! As I started driving, she expertly tucked her wings together, widened her stance, and…if a bee could give a thumbs up, I’m sure that’s what she’d have done.
On the way home, I drove a little more slowly, trying not to go over 40mph and a lot slower whenever possible. She looked determined to make it.
But when I pulled into our driveway and parked the car, she and I both sat motionless. C’mon, I thought, you’ve made it this far. You’re home. You’ve got to be okay!
Looking more closely it seemed like one of her legs was moving, perhaps twitching a bit. But nothing more.
I wasn’t going anywhere until I knew all was well. At that point, clouds were starting to thin and the outline of the sun becoming visible through them. THE SUN! Coming to the rescue!
Eventually, my little bee started straightening her hairs again, then grooming quite vigorously. The air was warming, the sun was coming out, and my darling girl was getting herself together after taking a battering on the road.
Finally, the sun was bright enough to cast shadows, increasing in strength by the minute. And my bee, stalwart little travel companion, walked up the glass onto the door frame to finish warming up.
I returned to my apartment feeling uplifted by the tenacity of that little creature. She had a purpose and was committed to it. What a beautiful analogy for holding on when we think we can’t go any further, when no one would expect us to keep going. Even then, we manage. Because no matter how bad things seem, the sun will come out and we will find our way home.
Frantic Shanti 