A lot of my fears are completely irrational. Take the fist sized bug that came toward me today while I was mowing around the weed garden we keep around the house. Well of course I leapt off the mower, screaming my head off, and dashed across the yard. Sure I did. Didn’t even think twice about it.

When my husband came around the corner of the house, faint concern around the corner of his eyes (“you just never know when she’s mowing,” he must think to himself, “it might really be something serious…or it might be an insect”), I was sheepishly remounting. He didn’t have to say a word. I didn’t have to see him roll his eyes (and, bless his heart, maybe he didn’t roll them).

But it made me think about my irrational fears, and especially my knee-jerk reaction to the exoskeleton-clad flying insects that have made their cozy homes near mine. They’re everywhere – crickets in the kitchen (they’re not so bad, really), spiders in the crevices (well, they don’t have an exoskeleton and they’re not flying, but they make the list nevertheless), and creepy-crawlies in all sorts of other nooks and crannies, including anything green outside.

Why do I let myself overreact to these things? Why does it bother me so much to see a wasp, minding its own business, flying around the ceiling? After all, it’s way up there, and I’m way down here, and he doesn’t really want to get to know me better anyway. It’s mutual dislike. The beetles in the kitchen sink don’t really intend to be there. They want out as much as I want them out.

Maybe asking a “why” question isn’t the best approach. How can I better control my irrational fear? It seems silly, and it’s a little embarrassing, even with my understanding and oh-so-patient husband, to be leaping off moving mowers because of a…horsefly?

Like my husband, God must really love me to put up with my irrational fear. What is a fear but a way of not trusting in God? Do I think God won’t take care of me when that monolithic bug comes swooping at me with five of its friends? No, of course not – I’m not even thinking at that point.

And that’s just the point – I’m not thinking. How much of how I respond to the trials in my life is done on a knee-jerk basis, irrationally? How much of what comes flying out of my mouth is uncharitable, because I have not taken the time to think things through? How much of my irrational fears would go away, given the bright glare of thought?