Flies hover around the openings of your face, like paparazzi or people you don’t want around anymore. Unlike bees who are aggressive and purpose-driven in nature, flies are sad, hopeful, mindless, and even thoughtless. It’s easier to go with the wind than to break away and go against it. Flies get caught between the glass and the screen and die there, twitching, gasping, and never see the opening in the corner where they could have squeezed out to the fresh air.
They could have found freedom. Instead, flies rise when the air is hot and rain hasn’t touched the thirsty ground. They feed on dead things like dead poets or old stories, living vicariously through them, hoping for a bit of sustenance to keep them flying; to give them purpose. The trouble with flies is that they aren’t bees. They aren’t aggressive, defensive, offensive, and they don’t seek honor. Flies are sad creatures who live off the dead and not the living. Yet, even God has a purpose for every insect on earth.
The bees pollinate. They help fruit and flowers bloom. The bees make honey, and the happy buzzing in a Russian Sage sings the song of summer, play days, and warmth. When one thinks of flies, we think of the dead, the decomposing, and the things that rot. Flies do serve a purpose though. Their larvae eats decomposing organic matter. Spiders and other insects feed off flies. I’d be happy if most of us were bees instead, honoring the King as we help each other succeed, and live in the future and not the past.