I saw something impossible today.
I was taking a walk down this lovely path through the woods behind the house I’m sitting for when there It was. The Impossibility. Hanging about seven feet up and at least a yard removed from the nearest branch. Surrounded by nothing but air and sunlight. And neither one of those is a very tangible thing.
It was a spider’s web. It looked just like they do in barn lofts and in the corners between the wall and the ceiling. Only this one was a bit more impressive. Sort of like the difference between jumping into the shallow end of a swimming pool and leaping off the Cliffs of Dover.
A spider sat in the middle of this Impossible web. A little spider with black legs and a white back with two little black dots in the middle of the white. Apparently, he was trying to be a lady bug. He just sat there, waiting for his dinner, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be an Impossible distance away from anything solid. He didn’t even have any wings.
I followed one of the strands from his web. It was about nine feet long in all - just one tiny, hair-thin strand, angling off from the web and trailing down, down, down to where he’d tied it off. On a blade of grass far, far below. Talk about stability. This little guy had absolutely no qualms in his skill as a master craftsman. But I was still perplexed.
I asked God how the spider got there.
God said, “He let go.”
Hm. Yes, I suppose he’d have to, hm? Maybe he jumped out of the tree. Maybe the wind blew him. Maybe he made friends with a bird. I don’t really know. All I know is this tiny spider somehow managed to get himself and his house seven feet up in thin air. And you thought climbing Mount Everest was an achievement. Try doing it with no mountain under you.
I was taking a walk down this lovely path through the woods behind the house I’m sitting for when there It was. The Impossibility. Hanging about seven feet up and at least a yard removed from the nearest branch. Surrounded by nothing but air and sunlight. And neither one of those is a very tangible thing.
It was a spider’s web. It looked just like they do in barn lofts and in the corners between the wall and the ceiling. Only this one was a bit more impressive. Sort of like the difference between jumping into the shallow end of a swimming pool and leaping off the Cliffs of Dover.
A spider sat in the middle of this Impossible web. A little spider with black legs and a white back with two little black dots in the middle of the white. Apparently, he was trying to be a lady bug. He just sat there, waiting for his dinner, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be an Impossible distance away from anything solid. He didn’t even have any wings.
I followed one of the strands from his web. It was about nine feet long in all - just one tiny, hair-thin strand, angling off from the web and trailing down, down, down to where he’d tied it off. On a blade of grass far, far below. Talk about stability. This little guy had absolutely no qualms in his skill as a master craftsman. But I was still perplexed.
I asked God how the spider got there.
God said, “He let go.”
Hm. Yes, I suppose he’d have to, hm? Maybe he jumped out of the tree. Maybe the wind blew him. Maybe he made friends with a bird. I don’t really know. All I know is this tiny spider somehow managed to get himself and his house seven feet up in thin air. And you thought climbing Mount Everest was an achievement. Try doing it with no mountain under you.
This spider is my newest hero. He did something Impossible . . . and all because he let go.
