The Sting of Change

I never thought it would happen to me. But here I am. Telling this dumb story about being a wimp with pain.

Taylor Johnson

Aug 15, 2024

Funny?
Free?
Relaxed?
Slowed down?
Sped up?
Like it’s impossible to focus?
Content?
Contemptuous?
In awe of the beauty of life?

I’M GRATEFUL FOR

Podcasts that make me laugh out loud
Just how free the library is
Rollercoasters

Some things change and some stay the same. Some things you thought would never change eventually do.

NEVER STUNG!

Can you believe it? I went 34 years without ever being stung by a bee, wasp, hornet, or anything else. I had been bitten. Sure. Who hasn’t been bitten by fire ants or some guy outside a Denny’s. You can’t avoid it. But I had spent my life dodging stingers!

A badge of honor? Greatest accomplishment in my life? There was a time it was a close second. Even as a kid I knew Never Broke a Bone was a bigger deal than living a sting free life. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t still passionate about keeping both records alive.

Why? It’s not like my life is a video game where I unlock a secret ending if I make it to the end with this achievement. I won’t stand before God after death, hear him say “Well done,” and be like “…And? What else?” Then he pulls out a little certificate that says Sting Free that I can hang on my wall in heaven.

[In heaven, if you never get stung by a bee in life, you get to start with 4 slices of pizza instead of 2 like everyone else. Heaven is a youth group pizza party. Hell is VBS.]

It’s not that big of a deal and yet if you saw the way my body moved whenever a bee was near, you’d think the fate of the galaxy depended on it.

Nothing will make me move less like a grown adult human man like a wasp in my face. I’ll jump, spin, kick, twist, skip, twirl, and flail. From a distance you couldn’t even see wasp and probably just think I was practicing some new martial arts for kids who need to go to the bathroom.

But it finally happened. After all this time. I got stung.

Every spring and summer I end up with a fly problem in my house. They all loiter right outside my house, knowing they just need one to slip in with me when I open the door. If they get one, I’ll open the door back up, hoping to shoo it out, and while I’m distracted, forty more can zip in too. The shoo is a sham.

It feels like all these flying insects are working together. No discrimination. Pure unity. They all have the same goal. It doesn’t matter if you’re a little fly, fruit fly, mosquito, or even those big loud chunky flies that sound like they run on diesel. They all want in. They fly at the door and buzz, waiting for their opportunity.

I’ve gotten pretty good at swatting down the ones that make it inside. Only once or twice have I been able to reach out and snatch one from the air. Nothing will make you feel more powerful.

The other day I heard the familiar sound of struggle behind the blinds in my office. Some winged thing must have got itself wedged back there thinking the closed window could be a way back outside. Nope.

I peaked through the blinds, expecting to see a big ol thick fly because of how loud the buzzing was, but instead I found a wasp. A freaking wasp.

I had never let in anything that big before, and I hope I never do again. I hope that’s as big as it gets. I don’t need to find a crow behind my blinds next.

At least it was cornered in there. By the sound of the struggle, I knew it wasn’t going anywhere. The worst part of these flying things hanging out is when I lose track of them. There are nights I wander around because I could have sworn I saw a mosquito make it in, but then it’s nowhere to be found. It just finds a hiding spot until I fall asleep so the buffet can begin.

I grabbed a paper towel, my weapon of choice, and readied my strike.

Was I nervous? Yes. I wanted it gone, but I also didn’t want to break the streak! And since I had never been stung before, I didn’t know what to expect. And the unknown is terrifying!

I crouched down. I wanted to be lower than the wasp so that, when I moved the blinds enough in order to attack, there would be less of a risk he flies right into my face or up my nose or stings my eyeball.

I went to smack the paper towel against the window. It should have been a loud WHACK sound, but I got scared and didn’t commit enough to deserve all caps.

*whack*

At the last second I got nervous that the paper towel wasn’t going to be enough protection, as if the wasp was made of knives.

It was a soft smush.

I knocked it off the glass and onto the window sill. It was stunned and trying to get itself back on its feet. This was going to be my only chance. If this thing got to flapping again, there’s no telling where it could go off to and plan its revenge.

In a panic, I thrust my paper towel forward with more force and less aim.

*WHACK*

I had struck HARD.

And missed.

And landed right below the wasp.

Right under its butt.

And I watched in slow motion as the stinger came out.

There was nothing I could do.

PAIN!

And my heavenly Sting Free certificate faded away.

Right under the nail on my middle finger.

Was this the wasp’s way of flipping me off? Jerk.

And then I smushed it for real. Since the worst case scenario had already happened, there was nothing left to fear, so I went right for the kill.

There was no time to celebrate the victory because—ow ow OW! OW! OH DANG! OW!

Was I being a wimp? It hurt so much.

I ran to the sink and ran hot water on the finger because I couldn’t think of anything better to do.

Did it hurt this much because it was the first time and the shock added to the effect? Would it have hurt this much if I had been stung as a 10 year old?

I remember one time my grandparents were watching my sister and I while my parents were out of town. I had come in from playing outside with a bee hitchhiking on the back of my shirt. When my sister pointed it out, I froze in panic. I had no idea how bad a bee sting could be. But my grandpa just walked up, scooped it into his hands, and took it outside. I thought that was the bravest thing anyone had ever done. That’s a real man.

Meanwhile, 34 year old Taylor was losing his mind. HOW LONG IS THIS GOING TO LAST?! I could feel the skin around the sting starting tighten and swell. What if this is how I find out I’m allergic to wasps?

The truth is, I was fine. It hurt, but I was fine. It was the newness of the pain that got to me. The shock of a first experience and all the unknowns.

It’s impossible to know how painful something is until you’ve experienced it yourself. You can get a taste, a glimpse, an idea from hearing other people describe it, or watching others go through it, but it’s almost like it’s not fully real until it’s your own.

When my dad was put on hospice care, I had friends checking in on me. They’d all ask how I was doing. I had no idea how to answer. My dad was going to die. It was such a hard concept to wrap my head around. It was like someone said In a few days, your dad is going to turn into a bowl of spaghetti. What? I know what all those words mean, but I haver never heard them in that order. What would that even look like? How do you prepare yourself for that? There’s no way to know until the moment finally arrives.

Over the last few weeks I’ve been thinking of the ways I talk to myself when I’m scared. What am I trying to convince myself of? That it won’t be as bad as I’m afraid it’s going to be? But what if it is?! What if it really is the worst case scenario?! Because it actually could be. And the more I try to convince myself it could never happen, the less actually believe it. And then I’m SURE the worst is what’s coming.

So now I’m trying something different.

The thing I need to convince myself is that, no matter what comes, I will be able to face it.

What if this thing I never wanted to happen actually happens?! I’ll figure it out. I’ll manage. I’ll ask for help. I’ll look it in the eyes and feel the feelings and make it through.

I think the real fear behind all my anxious What If’s is that I’m convinced I won’t be able to handle it. I’ll fall apart, everything will be a disaster, and that’ll be the end of the story.

But Taylor, remember that one time you totaled a minivan the day after you bought it (yikes, am I right?) and you were stranded in west Texas for a month without a vehicle as you lived with your friends? That was a worst case scenario and you survived that. You figured it out. You called the people you had to call and took all the steps with your insurance. Sure, it was miserable and one time the lady at the insurance company was worried about you because you left the most anxious voicemail. But you made it.

What if things change? They will. What if it hurts? It could. What if I can’t handle it on my own? You already know the trustworthy people who love and care for you who will be there with you.

There is strength out there for you when you need it.

September is Suicide Prevention Month

I’m hosting a free webinar on Thursday August 22 on what churches can do to engage with it.

Imagine that fear of not being able to handle pain, but just about being alive. What if I feel this way forever? I don’t know if I can handle that. I don’t know if I can keep going. That’s what it’s felt like for me when I’ve been at my lowest.

How do we minister to people struggling with those thoughts? How do we minister to those caring for someone struggling? Let’s talk next Thursday.

Love you like a neighbor,