Do You Have a Web?

Up before the sun, she sat on the deck lost in thought. Her mind was slowly being transported to a dull sense of numb. Muttering, “I’m tired,” she now thought sleep must be against her too. “I have had enough and need to go in,” thus standing to prove her point. This was when a golden glisten caught her eye. “Wow, where did that come from?” she asked out loud.

The patio light angled just enough to see the over night creation. There in the corner of her window a small spider had chose to dwell. In one night it had created this gorgeously woven web of wonder and the light made it look like gold. “You were up later than I and look at what you have made,” she said smiling, rambling back inside.

Not thinking anymore of the little spider, she passed the time piddling around waiting on the sun. Doing this and doing that, she completely forgot the rising of her friend. The mundane tasks she had been piddling at were not helping though.  “I need a breath of fresh air,” she thought and stepped back onto the deck.

The deck brought only pain and questions. “Where did it go, what happen?” was all she could ask. There in the corner of the window, where the beautifully spun web had been were the remnants of what was. Wispy, brown strings, that once was beauty is all that remained. Wispy strands, just hanging on in the motion of the wind. “I can relate,” she thought, as the thought suddenly transformed.

Transformed and became a life, her life. She had picked her spot, built main supports, interwoven crossties, spun beauty and wonder; build her web. Then just like the sun to the web, something happened and her web became remnants hanging on in the motion of the wind.

This is where I am, just hanging on in the motion of the wind. My web has been burned up with the dawning of the sun. My outlook is ever changing, at the mercy of the breeze. I want to learn to be a spider.

When the sun came up this morning I found a new beautifully spun web. The little spider had took the rising of the sun and said, “Oh well, I’ll do it all again.” I want to learn to do that.

If that little spider can spin a new web every night, knowing well and good the sun is going to burn it up, so can I. At least I’d like to think I can.

I’m wishing you a beautifully spun weekend.

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