Author: Jacqi Kambish
I love ladybugs. I always have. They are one of the few insects I find acceptable. Insects have their place, I recognize that and I can tolerate them doing their job as long as they stay away from me. That includes most beetles. As a kid, a summer sleepover could be ruined by beetle sightings in the house. I just couldn’t sleep on the floor with visions of beetles or spiders (even worse) crawling around.
Ladybugs are different though. A well accepted and generally tolerated beetle of bright red. These little beauties carry with them a sense of awe and the possibility of good luck. As a kid, I always found them a bit enchanting and I can’t think of a single soul who would stomp a Ladybug. I mean, can you imagine that horror? I am pretty sure anyone who would even think about stomping a ladybug is some kind of monster. How do you stomp such a delicate and fascinating creature? On the other hand, spiders and ants and the likes can be stomped till kingdom come. Stomp away! Ladybugs are awesome enough to get a free pass. Even most children admire them. And, Ladybugs have more to offer the world than good looks and a chance for fortune. They are extremely useful. Gardeners sing their praises and commonly enlist their help. So, ladybugs are kinda the triple threat of the bug world. Beautiful, useful, and everybody loves them. They are also survivalist omnivores. They can be flexible when the situation calls for it. Take that as you will but they manage themselves. So, in a way, you could say that despite their sweet essence, there is a bit of fight in them. They don’t just lay down and give up when life gets difficult. Plus, they get to hibernate all winter which is perfect! What I wouldn’t give to spend an entire winter snoozing in a warm comfortable location.
Honestly, I can’t think of a single thing to not like about ladybugs. Just thinking about ladybugs brings a whimsical smile to my face. When I see a ladybug I see everything that is good and sweet and precious and useful and beautiful in this world. A ladybug can lift my spirits and remind me to pause and appreciate the good things this life has to offer. And, no matter what kind of a day I am having, a ladybug sighting can bring a smile to my face.
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I was lost in thought as I absently chopped carrots at the kitchen counter. Somewhere in the back of my mind the voice of my third child broke through, “Momma! Momma! Momma! Momma! Momma!”
Shaking the remains of a fading thought, I turned toward the voice and spied my little Flower hanging on the refrigerator door and pulling to no avail.
“What is it?” I asked a bit more annoyed than I intended.
“Im Hungee!” She said in her little three year old voice.
“I’m making dinner. It will be ready soon.”
“No! I no want dinner. I want snack!” I shooed her away as I finished the meal preparation and reflected for a moment. A tinge of guilt sprang up as I realized how often I get lost in my own thoughts.
I used to write. I wrote a lot. Writing was a way of processing and getting out of my head the things that rattle around in there. For me, writing is and has always been an avenue for remaining positive. I always found the good in things when I sat down and reflected long enough to write about it. I haven’t written regularly in years. There are a lot of reasons. Life got busy, I got tired, and a build-up of sorrows too difficult to fully process left me without a voice. As I stood in the kitchen I realized, that along with my protective wall of writer’s block, I had lost that positive outlet. Something in me closed up and I couldn’t write but I also couldn’t really fully process. I needed an outlet. A grumpy haze had started to cloud over my view of the world. It was time to return to the one process I could always count on to help me make sense of this life. I knew I needed more than just a journal though. I want to share hope and encouragement even when things are hard and they don’t make sense. I want to know that this life and all the experiences in it are not meaningless. As the saying goes, “hope springs eternal.” And, hope isn’t meant to be hidden. It is meant to be shared.
“I might start a blog.” I shyly offered my Husband that night as I flopped onto the couch next to him.
He didn’t look up from his magazine, “You know I’m not going to read it right?”
I sat up fully and turned toward him as he tipped the magazine down far enough to reveal the twinkle in his eye. With mock exasperation I retorted, “You will read every word of it!”
We smiled at each other and I knew he would support me.
“I love ladybugs. Maybe I will name my blog after ladybugs…” I trailed off as I considered it.
“Is it a bit….presumptuous of me to start a blog?”
“Yes.” Came his reply.
I made a face at him.
“Well then….perhaps I should be… The Presumptuous Ladybug.”
I wish I could say that was all it took. I thought about it and bounced a few names around. I shared them with a couple close friends. In the end, the presumptuous ladybug seemed to have more to say than any other and she took on a life of her own and she became mine.