Be My Bee

I went walking this morning and what did I see?

A tall, purple bush overflowing with bees.

Before I approached them I heard from afar

The sound of their wings flying from flower to flower.

There must have been hundreds to make such a buzz,

All working together without making a fuss.

I stopped walking this morning to admire the sight

Of content little bees harvesting purple delight. 

I went walking this morning and what did I see?

The squished, lifeless body of a dead honeybee.

As I stared at the body all alone on the ground,

I started to wonder if she would be found. 

Would the same happy bees from mere minutes ago

Even realize that this bee never came home?

I stopped walking this morning at the small tragedy

And mourned for the loss of a small honeybee. 

 
One of the best things that has happened to me this year is becoming a part-owner in an honest-to-goodness, real live beehive. Being a beekeeper has been an unrecognized dream of mine for years, ever since I read The Keeper of the Bees when I was a teenager. That my dream actually came true is the stuff of fairy tales. 

I love bees. Absolutely adore them. I'll admit, I did used to get a little nervous around members of the Vespidae and Apidae families, but that fear has long since vanished. True, the wasp and hornet cousins in the Vespidae are undeniably tetchy, but if I don't disturb their nests, don't approach them uninvited, and (most importantly), don't walk directly into the path of a determined yellow jacket, we get along. 

I'm distracted. I was discussing my deep affection for bees. The more I learn about them the more I admire them. I won't go into all the amazing facts I've learned about bees recently, that's not the point of this discussion. Suffice it to say that if you want to know what Zion looks like, look at a beehive. Gene Stratton-Porter was absolutely correct when she said bees were proof that God exists. And cares. And works miracles. And wants the best for us. It's written in the hive. 

Alright. That was a crash course on Esther's favorite animal (fine, after 22 years, I'll admit I do have a favorite animal). Hopefully it was enough to illustrate the sadness I felt when I came across my dear, deceased honeybee. I could not walk on without pausing to honor her life and sacrifice. And, I could not walk on without genuinely wondering if she would be missed. I've seen the inside of a beehive. There are hundreds, if not (hopefully) thousands, of bees in a hive. They live a mere 6 weeks each. They're constantly out of the hive searching for flowers and pollen. If one goes missing does any bee notice? Without a doubt if the hive is threatened any and every bee in the vicinity will be hunting you down but bees get squished all the time (even by the most loving of beekeepers) and the hive moves on. So, no. My dearly departed is not going to get recognition, a funeral, or even an epitaph. No bee is going to mourn her loss. 

Which seems really harsh, especially considering the fact that I just told you the beehive is proof that God loves and cares. If I am trying to relate beehive life to real life (which, of course, I am) then I guess the lesson to be learned from these bees is that when someone in your beehive dies you move right along with your job, life, and duties with nary a thought to the fact that you don't know where they've gone or that they're not coming back. Perhaps that's not the best life lesson to internalize.

But this is. 

As I stood, mourning the loss of my bee, a scripture entered my mind. Mosiah 18:8-9 to be exact. Or, it would be exact if the scripture hadn't come to mind with a few...changes. Very important changes that I cannot take credit for. It felt almost like someone outside of me was giving me an admonition to recognize the importance of this altered scripture and as soon as I did, I knew I had to share it. So here goes. 

"Mourn with those that mourn..." That's the official scripture. Simple enough, right? I like to think I'm fairly good at that. I was mourning a bee I'd never even met for goodness sake! I mourn for other people all the time. I mourn the tragedies of their childhood. I mourn the difficulties they experience. I mourn when the probably wish I wouldn't mourn. I'm great at mourning. So great at it that I'm definitely going to heaven. 

Or I would, except that I am not so great at obeying the unofficial second half of that scripture--"...but be of good cheer." If you didn't realize it before, I like contradictions. So, apparently, does God. Seriously! Mourn but be happy? What kind of advice is that? Good advice, that's what. Or perhaps, more importantly, permission. Permission to realize that while hard things do happen, grief does grace us with its presence, tragedy tries us, and sobs shake us, they don't have to last forever. They're not supposed to last forever. Perhaps this is just me, but I've realized that I hold onto sad things far longer than is healthy. Why? Because I somehow decided that God wanted me to hold onto the sad. As if by holding onto the pain I would be better able to mourn with others, empathize with others, and support others. As if God was giving me that pain in order to make me more useful when I tried to serve him. 

I was wrong. He wasn't giving me the pain. He was giving me the experience. The memory. There wasn't any avoiding the pain but there was also no reason to hold onto it. No reason not to mourn and then let it go. No reason not to feel sad and then embrace happy. Yes, mourn with those that mourn, and then be the reason they find good cheer. Maybe the bees have it right. They notice the death of their friends and then, when it's time (which for a bee that only has a maximum 2 week memory for important things like hive location, is pretty soon after) they let it go and keep on bee-ing.

Not completely convinced that it's okay to stop mourning? I've got proof. 

"Comfort those that stand in need of comfort..." Okay, yeah. Sounds a lot like mourning with those that mourn...until you finish that scripture incorrectly with "...but be comforted." Ha! I win! I think that's indisputable proof that it's okay and good and blessed to accept comfort. Admittedly, that's not always an easy thing to do. Especially when life is unfair, living is hard, and death is inevitable. What if feeling comforted feels like we didn't love our loved one enough? What if being comforted means we aren't angry with the people who wronged us? What if being comforted means we finally forgive even though justice hasn't been met yet? What if being comforted comes at the expense of being right? That's a tough pill for the ego to swallow. It takes a lot of trust to be comforted. A lot of faith to believe it's okay to be okay. 

Logically, that brings us to the third admonition, "Bear one another's burdens that they may be light..." I think this is the one I get wrong most often. My entire life I've believed that taking on someone else's burdens makes my load heavier. I have weighed myself down with more cares and woes and sadnesses that do not belong to me than I can even begin to count. And then I hurt people because I'm so worn out bearing burdens that I snap in an angry tantrum during which no one is feeling like their burdens are light. Perfectly living up to that admonition. Yep, definitely going to heaven. I'm so glad that's not the end of the scripture. Things get a lot better when you think, "...but my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

The bees definitely have it right in this instance. When a bee dies there are less bodies to do the work and, as every bee knows, there is always more work to do. So what do they do? The same amount of work they did before their sister died. They shoulder their burdens. They do their work. The lift those burdens and work together just like they always do. What they don't do is take on extra work. They don't do more than they are physically able (doing so would lead to an early death which would be no help whatsoever). And in so doing they make the burden lighter. Not because they're carrying an extra load that isn't theirs to carry but because they're carrying their load with good cheer, a kind word, and a comforting presence. That, my friends, is how to bear burdens. I'm still working on that.

When I started writing this I decided I wanted to get my facts right so I looked up the scripture references and reread Mosiah 18:8-9. The ending sure comes across different when you're considering a dead bee while reading, "Stand as a witness of God at all times and in all things and in all places that ye may be in, even until death." Or perhaps, even in death. My darling bee friend certainly did that. Her death led me to a deeper understanding of what God actually wants from me. He doesn't want me wearing myself out trying to mourn 24/7, rejecting comfort because I don't think I deserve it, or trying to pick up someone else's burden. He wants me to be of good cheer, to be comforted, to be light. He wants me to be Zion. He wants me to be His bee. 

I hope that comes across when someone reads my eulogy someday.

Scripture References: Mosiah 18:8-9; John 16:33; Alma 17:10; and Matthew 11:30.