"On A Return to the Scene"

It had been three weeks since I mowed.  After encountering the wasps' nest on the bank of blackberries and ivy, I had postponed the mowing job as I was uncertain what kind of nearby activity might set them off.  That was a good decision, because when I showed my client where the nest was located so it could be dealt with, several unruly wasps chased us into the house.  Did you know that in addition to stinging they also bite?

A professional had been called in to dispose of the nest, and the owner notified me she had checked several times, and there was no sign of the threatening flying menaces.  As I unloaded the mower from the truck the thought passed through that I was returning to the scene of the crime.  While no crime had been committed, I was returning to a scene, one which evoked unpleasant memories and brought with it accompanying fear.

Even today, another two weeks later, I found myself checking out of the corner of my eye as I mowed past the place where the nest had been located.  I've seen several wasps flying around the past few days. The cooler weather seems to have dampened their nasty dispositions some, so they aren't as threatening.   And yet the memory of digging into a wasps' nest in the ground two years ago with my garden tool and the ensuing attack lingers.  I still have not tackled those blackberries up on the bank.

I found myself thinking about how experiences from our past, some of them from decades ago, have a way of sneaking into the present, influencing not only the way we think, but how we live, often holding us mentally and emotionally hostage.

The mind is a tricky beast.  In fact, I'd put it right up there on an equivalency with the tongue when it comes to the degree of difficulty in exercising control over.  An enormous amount of money is spent on seminars, books, and videos in an attempt to better regulate thoughts and subsequent reactions and responses to those thoughts.  Oh, that it were that easy to simply train one's mind.

Experiences from our past which have caused pain, sadness, turmoil, or grief have the potential of being springboards, situations which rear their ugly heads to appear, once again, in our daily lives. Even though the likelihood of the same thing being repeated is improbable, the memory and thought is often enough to taint the present.  It's as though we return to the scene each and every time a similar situation occurs.  Getting back on a horse after being bucked off or on a bicycle after falling off carries with it the idea of not allowing a single incident to define one's future.  Sometimes that is possible; other times it isn't.

A dental experience when I was in my 20's, when a cavity was filled without the tooth being deadened; three very serious bicycle accidents involving my children; a scenic drive on a logging road which nearly ended horrifically; my family swimming in a river, watching as panic took over and realizing later they could have all drowned right before my eyes--these are just a few of the springboards in my life.  I know you have your own; anyone who has lived life does. 

So how does a person live life in the present, not allowing the past to color it, without being affected or influenced?  How does one deal with the mental recurrence of a difficult time, a return to the scene, as it were?   Personally, I haven't stopped going to the dentist or forbidden my grandchildren to ride bicycles or swim, though I don't take any sight-seeing tours through the mountains on logging roads. As I see it there are two options: When my mind is flooded with a tsunami wave of memory and the fear that comes along with it, I can either try dealing with it on my own, or I can concede my inability to do anything and seek help from my Creator. 

I have an abundance of experiences to draw from in my life which make me an advocate of the latter.  There are more than a few situations in my life already lived which have the potential to ground me, bring me to a screeching halt, but for the work of the One who made me.  It all starts in the mind, you know.  There are many things from my past which do not touch me, don't affect me or my life, because of God--His hand, His touch--in my inner psyche. 

We, He and I, aren't all the way through the wasp thing yet.  I will say, though, that I made it through this season with nothing more than a swollen foot and a bite on the neck.  I am, however, considering skipping next August and September when the wasps go on their rant.  Thank God He walks me through this stuff.