My double purple trumpet flowers are by far the most beautiful feature of my little garden. This morning I thought I’d spied a rare triple bloom about to open and pushed aside two stalks of leaves and flowers to take a closer look.
Without warning, a stink bug from hell dive-bombed past my ear with a sound like that of a chinook helicopter, and another one took off, crossing my field of vision just inches from my face. Auuuggghhh, I screamed, lunatic style, then flailed my arms around my head while high-stepping it, double-time, back into the house.
It wasn’t the first time a bug had chased me from my garden. Probably won’t be the last. The shame of it is, stink bugs don’t bite or sting, and I know I shouldn’t be afraid of them.
It makes me wonder how many stink bugs I’ve allowed to come between me and things I want to enjoy?
I recently took a trip to Montana to visit a friend who lives near the Bitterroot Mountains. Nancy’s a good driver, but the fear of heights kept me from enjoying the breathtaking views as we drove the rural mountain roads through clean, fresh air and Ponderosa Pines. I’m calling STINK BUG on that fear.
Some fears I have are many years old. Like the fear of (go ahead and laugh) the dark, especially the fear of dangling my feet off the bed in the blackness of the night.
But other fears are relatively new – or at least more pronounced than they used to be. Like the fear of criticism or rejection. As a writer, I’m elated when my novels get good reviews on Amazon or Goodreads, and brought to a low place by bad or mediocre ones. This fear has no basis. My self worth isn’t determined by what other people think of me or my work. I’m throwing the STINK BUG flag on that fear.
I’m sick and tired of the myriad of unmerited fears that make me run off screaming with arms flailing and feet stomping. So from now on, when I go to the garden, I’m going to stand my ground. And if one of those darn six-legged monsters even thinks of looking at me crooked, I’m going to yell STINK BUG and keep looking for that triple bloom if it kills me.
Or, gulp… Run.