It seems fitting that they left too soon, the baby spiders. Phoebe, the boys and I watched their mother spin her beautiful gossamer egg sacks in the spring. I have watched them through my laundry room window through the fall and then on past Phoebe’s passing and into the winter. Each time I start a load of clothes or grab the broom from the laundry room, I look up to see if they are safe and intact, and they are. Until this week.
A warm blanket of sunshine broke through the chill of the former weeks and graced us with a 70 degree day. The spiders had their cue to hatch, break free of their cocoon and float away on the wind to find new homes and grow. So they left. Too soon.
My heart was a little broken when I looked through the glass and saw the tattered egg sacks flapping in the wind. I half expected that somehow, some way, I would be there at just the right moment to watch them climb on tiny legs out into the sunlight and float away. Maybe I would go to turn the garden hose on at just the right time or peek out the window just as they began to emerge. It would be triumphant, a moment coming full circle. I would witness the fullness of the miracle that Phoebe and I had marveled at as it commenced. The boys and I would take pictures, I would post them on the blog and share the beauty of the moment.
I sighed to myself as I peered out the window and folded a towel, disappointed that I could no longer look forward to their emerging.
But then I saw it…
And I thought of the sparrows,
“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.” ~Matthew 10:29-31
And the sparrows made me think of the ravens,
“Who provides the raven’s food when its young cry out to God and wander about for lack of food?” ~ Job 38:41
And the spiders that left too soon made me think about Phoebe and how even departures are ordained. Who can thwart His good purpose in everything? I cannot see the over-arching good yet. In desperation I would trade it all to have her back.
But I see through a glass dimly. And this I know very well.
His infinite-ness and His intimate acquaintance with me; for even the hairs of my head are all numbered, make me know that He will heal and bind and that this all makes sense somehow and somewhere.
Who can understand the delicate balance that He keeps or why He allows what He allows? But I have seen His goodness in the land of the living and I have known Him in the deep waters where the only refuge is Him alone. And I remember the words of Job, “Shall we accept goodness from God and shall we not accept adversity?”
He is good. Yes, He has been good to me.
Sometimes that statement is a sacrifice of praise, and other times it is my heart song.
I hope the little spiders stay put until Spring and that I have the opportunity to watch their crowning, but if it isn’t to be, it was all a miracle anyway.