This morning mom tells me there is a spider in the garden. I know right away that if she's talking about it, it has got to be big. But big is an understatement. I'm not too far across the lawn and I can already see it. And wow, what a beautiful spider—as long as it stays where it is, right where I can see it, and a good distance away. Its about as big as my big toe. About as big as my thumb.
"You should take some pictures of it, Laura," mom says. Oh boy. I don't want to get close too that thing, but I guess it would be good photography practice. I take my time getting my camera together. I'm not in a huge hurry to get more acquainted with that grossly large Arachnid. But here I am, squatting down next to this gigantic spider, clicking my camera away in his face. He doesn't seem bothered by it, but I'm hoping with every part of me that he doesn't dash away into the bushes, that he doesn't move at all. I'm sure I'll scream if he does. Besides, I want him to stay where I can see him; spiders are just so much scarier when you can't. Before long, I find my self climbing in to the bushes behind him, getting shots of his underside. He's got another bug grossly wrapped up in his grasp, but he isn't doing anything with it. And I'm fine as long as he doesn't do anything with it.
I'm satisfied with the pictures I got, and head back toward the house. I show some to my mom, and change my lens. I'm walking back out to garden, more comfortable and confident than the first time I came out to take pictures. I take a couple snaps, adjust the camera for the lens and continuously moving sun. I squat down to get another shot. I look through my lens; I start focusing. But the moment that large beast comes into focus, I see his short front legs ripping at the grossly wrapped up bug, and his little head all twisting and clawing at it. I stand and turn away. My stomach is trying to take a journey up to my mouth, and my limbs are all crawling and prickling at me. I'm done. I can't take anymore pictures of that spider. I walk to the house, grossed out and cringing from what I just saw. I put my camera away, and just simply say, "I'm done. No more."
I got close to that spider, closer then was comfortable. But I did it. And just seeing the detail in the pattern—the design, the colors—I was truly amazed by God's creation. God is the Creator, Maker, and Sustainer of all things. It's easy to forget the significance of those simple truths. The simple truth that creation cries out to the glory of its Maker. Our very bodies proclaiming a perfect design and Designer, while our minds leak with resentment and denial. But we are His creation, we are His handy work, and all things will work for His purpose and for His glory, even in the midst of sin and decay.
“Ask the animals, and they will teach you,
or the birds of the air, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth,
and it will teach you, or let the fish of the sea inform you. Which of
these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand
is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.”
Job 12:7-10
Job 12:7-10
Wow, great job at working past and despite your fears! That shows true grit and determination. :) Spiders don't freak me out muchly, but they do give me a scare to a certain extent. I will scream if one surprises me. But one time while I was waiting for pick up at college, a spider came to visit and sit next to me on the curb. I was able to zoom in and get some really up close shots. It's amazing how much detail is in such a tiny creature!
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