Something in the nearby sunlight catches my eye. It’s a really dinky fly of some kind- or a humungous honkin' gnat. It bobbles through the air, going all directions at once. And somehow it’s heading right for me.
Carefully placing the Elixir on the ground, I ready my defenses to squash the little puppy if it turns bloodthirsty.
Now the strangest thing has happened.
It leaves the sunlight and enters the shade . . . and the back half of its body is glowing this bright blue-white. Like those flashlights at the discount stores.
The wind gives a brief burp and the little fella tumbles back out into the sunlight, looking like a ordinary gnat with a thyroid condition.
It is a persistent little sucker. Bobbing and weaving, it comes back into the shade. And it glows again . . . like there’s a tiny, tiny LED bulb firmly screwed in . . . into its . . . well, into its keester.
The Keester Fly bobs and dances past me once, now twice. Ah, nuts. A big sigh of breeze just Warp-2’d him into Millie’s yard across the street.
But, wow. A Keester Fly.
Now with the Elixir dregs drained, something hits me. Keester flys.
Huh.
As Christians, I think we’re supposed to be Keester Flys. When things are going great, the sun’s shining, we probably look no different than the next bug. Pretty nondescript.
It’s when things go dark and the shadows surround, that’s when lights get noticed. Just like Keester flys.
And another thought just jumped on the last one. I don’t think it’s the size of the keester that matters.
There are racks of all kinda lightbulbs at the home improvement stores that dwarf my little luminary friend. But with no power, all those huge bulb are without light.
Just as dark as the shadows. Nothing to notice.
The thought suddenly hits me. So as a Keester Fly, I shouldn’t worry about the size of my keester . . . just the brightness of my light.
Huh.
And now another thought forms.
I might need to try decaf for awhile.