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Mayflies

I was walking to work in the daylight Tuesday morning because it was my late morning to arrive and get report from my co-worker Sue.  

I had noticed dozens of winged insects, but as I reached the Lexington Street bridge, they began to remind me of the Exodus plagues. I walked on to the bridge, and past the first light pole.  On the cement walk at the base of the light, a drift of winged insects were lying, as if they had been buzzing around the light pole and then fallen, their wings still quivering.

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At the center light pole, the pile was much larger.  It was about a foot deep and six or seven feet in diameter.  It took up so much space, there was only a narrow strip of cement walkway left to slip by without either walking through the insect drift or jumping down to walk on the road.

A woman had been walking ahead of me, as I approached this enigma.  When she approached the center pile, she stopped to take a picture.  I came up behind her, and my morning shadow fell across her, and she stepped aside.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I’m taking pictures.”

“Wow,” I said, shaking my head at the mass, as I moved on.

“They only have a life expectancy of 24 hours,” she said, her voice trailing off.

She was fascinated, that was clear, and I knew the only reason she hadn’t elaborated was that I was clearly on my way to work, and not likely about to be fascinated by the life cycle of the insects.

Her enthusiasm stuck with me though, and I looked up the insects online.

Mayflies.

They live on the bottom of the river, then emerge to fly and mate for a day or two before dying.  They come in fishy-smelling clouds.

Thanks to university research, I discovered that the scientific name of the mayfly is from the Greek ephemeros which means “lasting but a day”. At the end of their life as larva on the bottom of the river, their gut fills with air and they float to the top of the river.  Here, their thorax splits and wings emerge.  However, they are still weak, so they float on the river for awhile before getting the strength to fly to a tree or bridge.  Here, they molt again, to a second flying stage (something that no other insects have), and emerge with longer tails and legs.  Then, they swarm and mate, which is the phenomenon that gets them noticed.

The next morning, I was walking to work at 4:30 am.  The drifts were slightly smaller, as if we were reaching the end of the swarm.  However, around the lamps on the bridge, the mayflies were still crowding.  An American flag dangled off the light pole, still in the hot morning, and both the flag and the pole were lined with mayfly wings.  I skirted the pile, and noticed the heavy, musty fish smell.  The smell and the appearance was dreadful, but perhaps encouraged by my friend of the day before, I found them strangely fascinating.  I even stopped to take a few photos, although they turned out badly in the darkness.

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(Click here to see the media report.)

On my way home that day, I was heavy-hearted. I passed the fishy smelling banks of wings. At home I called my neighbor Mary and told her that I’m surprised that God isn’t giving up on me, since I flounder around so much.

“Katrina,” she said. “That’s from the enemy.  And anyway, how God gonna give up on you, when he ain’t given up on all these other people in the world? You just need to give these hard things to God and remember that He is with you.”

I wish everyone had a neighbor like Mary to give them a tongue lashing at an appropriate moment.

God is with you…

Back to the mayflies. It seems like such a paltry existence, to live at the bottom of the river, emerge in a fishy cloud, and die in one day.  Yet, they are featured on TV and people are taking time out of their day to photograph them, despite their insult on our society.  We, with all our intelligence and social graces, are left marveling…at them!  And we are reminded once again of the intricacies of life on earth, that must only have been orchestrated by a rational intelligence. The woman ahead of me on the sidewalk was less fascinated by the smell and sight than by what it symbolized: mystery, order, complexity…. Yet, simplicity too.

And not only were these bugs created, they are sustained. Unlike the Deists, who believe that God made the world and then walked away, the mayflies remind me that God made them, and walks with them.  Jesus insisted that God witnesses the dropping of individual sparrows, which tells us that He is most definitely present in the works of His hands. 

God is with the mayflies.

In the grand scheme of things, we also are ephemeros, only here for a day. And I believe he wants the same glory from us that he gets from the mayflies, when people look at them and say, “Wow!” and are drawn not to the flies themselves but to the larger schemes of order and design. If they let themselves, people will see the reality that there is an intelligent Creator and Sustainer… God with us!

I don’t want to smell like a dead fish. But oh to live in a way that it is evident to all that God is not only our Creator, but our day to day Sustainer! Oh to back away from our own devices and gods and sustaining forces of power, money, and beauty and to live simply, in the sphere to which God has called us, whether for 24 hours or 24 years. 

The irony is, it’s a better life anyway, than being our own god. 

God is with us!

 

 

 

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