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LCARS
Library Computer Access and Retrieval System
Deep Black Arthropod
Shawn Thornburg
As I knelt there on my multi-colored blanket on that glorious, God-given day pondering the subject of this essay, I realized that the object of my thought was crawling all over me. Little, by comparison to myself, six- or eight-legged, and maybe winged, these busily bustling creatures are usually dismissed as little more than a nuisance. Bugs. Let me just describe a minute in the life of one bug, or more precisely, an ant.
This deep black arthropod was clearly on a mission when it stormed like a marathon runner onto my blanket. What mission exactly can only be imagined: perhaps it found a delectable morsel of nourishment and was scouting out a chemical path for others to follow, but it was, regardless, a mission for survival. The path the ant marched upon to complete its task as it scampered through its forest of crab grass and weeds was suddenly and dramatically altered into a surface much unlike the dirt it was accustomed to. The forest�s canopy disappeared and the sun beat down upon its exoskeleton unadulterated by the usual leaves and stems, instigating what seemed to me like panic in its miniature brain. It began performing figure eights as it attempted to decipher this new environment, climbing anything it happened to walk into. I guess one could have expected peculiar behavior such as this immediately following a drastic condition change. As soon as the ant had clambered over all of my belongings and reached the large, empty space on my blanket, the real fun started. The folds in the fabric quickly gave rise to the idea of numerous ant-ready catapults spread across malleable land. I hope you can guess what took place in the next instant, and, having surmised the answer, I hope you are now paying off any and all bets you made in reference to "ants flying." The makeshift catapults worked wonderfully as the poor insect flew around my blanket like a Wright brother.
When the final catapult finally fired and the seemingly dizzied bug touched down, it immediately regained its bearings and continued dashing toward its originally intended goal. This deep black arthropod climbed off the edge of my comforter and onto the canopy of its forest as I sat in awe at the fact that it could just land and re-orient itself without hesitation, let alone not puke all over my blanket. Although I felt slightly evil after having performed such a heinous act of terrorism, I smiled at the perseverance God had given this bug to simply pick itself up, dust itself off, and keep on trucking. I wondered what humans would be like if we maintained that kind of steadfastness in the face of such tribulation, instead of simply turning tail at each sign of trouble. How much stronger would our Christian walks be if we were like bugs? Who would have thought that an irritating little nuisance could have taught me about stronger Christian endurance? Bugs.
  
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