I loveeee summer! I love the heat. I love that the sun wakes up early. I love throwing my windows and doors open in the morning and letting my house breathe. I love lying in the grass at night watching fireflies glimmer and glow all around me. I love campfires under the moon. I love tanning, and sweating, and being outside all the time, and reading a good book as the sunsets, and friends, and the pool… Summer!!!

Literally summer is the best. And I would LOVE for life to always be summer. Except for one thing.

Insects.

The buzzing by my ears and little bites on my skin as I do all those things above. Flies destroying a picnic if I leave the food uncovered. Spiders thinking they get to join me on my towel when I’m laying in the grass. Weird gross things with wings landing on me when I bike or hike. And Bees!

I was stung by hornets, yellow-jackets, and even a honey bee bit me when I was a child (I was told they don’t have stingers?). To this day bees kinda really suck in my mind. (It’s the reason I don’t like the Steelers. Shhh. Don’t tell anyone in Pennsylvania! People get offended in these parts by things like that. But it’s the truth. Black and yellow means run away in my mind!)

Anyways. This evening I was a safe distance from a gathering of Bumblebees in my mother’s garden going to work on some flowers. And honestly I was kinda fascinated. They floated around each other, from tiny flower to tiny flower. Their wings were nearly invisible. The yellow and black didn’t scream danger to me. They looked fuzzy and friendly, sticking their heads in and out of the petals and flying off to another. For the first time in probably a decade, I appreciated bees, but more than that, in those few minutes while I watched the bees, three things stood out to me:

1. Hardworking

Bees are hardworking. From dawn to dusk they fly around collecting pollen to take back to their queen somewhere. A little here a little there, they buzz and buzz. And when they aren’t stinging people, they are working for their queen bee to keep her alive. It’s a together sorta job that requires a community. Which led to my next thought.

2. Selflessness

I imagined myself as a bee. If all I ever did was work for someone else, and that’s literally all I did all day, well I might sting a person too if a human got in my way. But honestly those bees don’t know the difference. They’re just doing what is inherent to them, which is work for someone else, to keep her alive. Their main agenda is to return to her, whatever that requires.

3. Creating and Producing

Lastly, as I watched the bees I thought about how cool it is that they aren’t just doing a meaningless task as they keep their queen alive. Without realizing it, as they do what comes naturally, buzzing from flower to flower and taking it back to their hive or nest or wherever bees live, they produce a product that people wouldn’t have without them: Honey. (And pollination of other plants and flowers so the plant cycle can continue, which is super important as well.) But honey is where my mind went while watching the bees. They just do their thing, and people get honey as a result.

I got kinda annoyed at that point when I realized the bees were taking me to school, teaching me some pretty basic life lessons, so I retaliated by snapping a few photos and coming to my computer to write about it; dang Bee Coaches.

But they were good lessons for me to pick up: To strive to be hardworking, selfless, and to produce/create/give back to the world around me. Bees do this inherently. They don’t have to beat laziness. Or kill selfish ambition. And they create and give back something unique that only they can offer, unlike humans who are just as good at destroying as we are creating.

But by following through with our goals and responsibilities throughout the day. And by being others-focused, instead of self-focused. And by creating, producing something in life- I don’t care if you are an artist producing photography, a construction worker digging a hole for someone’s new home, or a police officer making the world safer by watching out for the rest of us- we all have potential to create/produce/give back to the world that others might appreciate what we do.

So let’s learn from the Bee Coaches in hardworking capabilities, selfless action, and producing something good that which others can appreciate.

 Which of these lessons can you apply this week?

“Know this, my beloved brothers and sisters: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger…” James 1:19.

Have you ever had one of those falling dreams that you don’t know if you’re going up or down and you wake up? Or a dream where you’re running away from a bad guy and your feet feel heavy, like you’re running through sludge?

I had a dream like one of these the other night, but instead of falling or running I was screaming for help. My foot was caught in a grate on the sidewalk, it was a crowded city street, but no one heard me call for help. And the louder I called, the faster people walked by and ignored the girl standing still in the middle of it all. To me, I was in great distress, to everyone walking past, I was invisible.

When I woke up, I realized how true that dream is to some things in life I’ve been going through recently.

About three weeks ago, a number of issues came up at work, with family, and in my personal life that I tried to walk through and figure out on my own. But the layers of “stuff”- emotional ups and downs to go along with the relational ups and downs became too much, so I realized it was time to “phone a friend.”

More than once, as I opened up to what’s been going on in my life, not two sentences have been out of my mouth that friends tried offering advice on what to do.

“Have you thought of…” “Maybe you should just change…” “Just try…”

My initial thoughts in response were, “Okay, friends, gee thanks for listening. If you would listen, I could tell you that I have tried, thought of, and changed lots of those things. Let me just tell you the story please.”

It was almost more disappointing to talk to friends, when instead of advice I really just wanted to be heard. I wanted to get my story off of my chest with how life seemed to be momentarily snowballing down a hill, far and fast away from me.

Don’t get me wrong. I love each of my friends dearly. Their advice was sweet and they wanted to be helpful. And I know I’ve been in their shoes, jumping in with advice and explanations to my girlfriends without really hearing why they are even upset.

I think we hate seeing the people we love suffer, however big or small, and we just want to fix it for them and make it all go away, so we help manage their problem with answers instead of trying to understand the person in front of us.

But, maybe instead of fixing our friends and loved ones problems, the best thing we can do is to simply be there and listen to them. Let them talk out the latest issue and life dilemma. Let them tell their story.

The Bible calls us to be “quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry” in James, as well as a plethora of other passages and verses throughout Proverbs that speak of silence being wiser than talking.

On Facebook, I see the opposite of listening when it comes to political rants. You can look up the story of the gorilla with the boy at the zoo, the shooting in Orlando, and most recently the alligator that attacked the boy in shallow water at a Disney resort. All of which are heart breaking sad stories that should be grieved and talked about.

But when each of those events turned into a political rant in a matter of hours, blaming, finger pointing, arguments breaking out online… I wonder did anyone actually get the full story before becoming angry and telling their opinion of what to do?

Did anyone hear the parents of the boys? Did anyone listen to some of the family members speaking about their loved ones killed in the shooting? Is anyone willing to seek out another opinion besides their own about what should be done?

Literally I have seen some of the most hateful responses on Facebook, by people I know, went to college, or even to weddings with over the years and I’m over here thinking… people you aren’t that much older than me, and don’t really have that much more life experience than I do… what makes it your right to judge and point fingers about a lot of what is going on. The name calling. The divisions… Lets ask some questions first and educate ourselves and listen to the different perspectives. Let’s become enlightened to the thoughts and religious beliefs, the law, the history, the culture, the grace required to be a parent when bad things happen to their children, the humorous Buzz Feed posts, and the videos and media that try to capture snippets of what is going on.

It’s easy to want to talk, fix the problem as we see it, and make divisions of what “should have happened” in personal and public events in life, but it is better to listen.

From experience of being on both sides of the spectrum, listen to your friends; give them your ear and attention. It’s a rare occasion to have the undivided attention of loved ones these days what with media and technology filling up our space and time.

Who knows? Maybe listening to a friend’s story will allow you to open up with your own story that could be vulnerable and healing in a deeper way than just giving trite advice to the momentary problems of life.

So I encourage you- smile, hug, love on, and ask questions of the people in your circle of influence; let’s try to recapture the lost Art of Listening.

*This post was originally written for Wonderfully Made and has been edited for Written Jewels

“When people doubt you or dismiss you, I am with you. I fought everyday for you. So never stop fighting, I believe you. Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining. Although I can’t save every boat, I hope that by speaking today, you absorbed a small amount of light, a small knowing that you can’t be silenced, a small satisfaction that justice was served, a small assurance that we are getting somewhere, and a big, big knowing that you are important, unquestionably, you are untouchable, you are beautiful, you are to be valued, respected, undeniably, every minute of every day, you are powerful and nobody can take that away from you. To girls everywhere, I am with you.” -Stanford Victim

Dear Survivor,

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you went through what you went through. Going to a party like any other. Drinking too much. Blacking out. And a guy who didn’t know you and didn’t care because he wanted what he wanted. Then the media. And a year of fighting and trials…

Your life isn’t over, I know it. From the moment you told your family and started fighting, you took a stand for yourself and allowed others to come along beside you to help.

You are brave and strong.

I don’t know why you had to go through what you did, but you are not alone. Just like we, out here, who reported the assaults, or were too scared to, or were raped even by family members sometimes and no one knows… It has to stop. And your story matters because it is a catalyst for the voiceless out here. Rape, assault, victims, attackers, crime, sexual violent acts against (often times) women; people are talking. And I need people to talk. Because there are so many misconceptions and confusion and downright lies about the brokenness surrounding rape and assault. And it’s hard to breathe about it sometimes when you’ve been on the victim side.

For me, I didn’t have media in my face, I could have kept 100% silent for what happened to me only for God and the cab driver to know. But I told a friend, then a family member, and then with the encouragement of my friend reported the assault to the police who said, “I want you to know up front that though I’m filling out the paper work, it won’t get very far. It will go into a file and it’ll probably sit there. It sounds like you were really drunk and don’t remember much, and he never exposed himself to you, which if he did, that changes things. You can try calling the cab company and seeing if they will handle this driver directly.”

It was a slap in the face to someone who pressed into that night, thinking through start to finish what happened so I could get help. And yes it did get foggy because I drank too much and my memories are hazy, blurry, and black. I thought originally I had to “just get over it” “move on” “I was too drunk, no wonder this happened” “I’m a Christian, I should have known better” “I was playing with fire, of course I got burned”… Are you kidding me?! I was out with a friend at a wine event, I made a mistake and misjudged how much I drank from there, then we got separated, and then I got put into a cab to get a SAFE ride home. But that didn’t happen… safe is the opposite that I felt in the cab drivers car… I didn’t ask for what he did to me.

I was angry that night. But I fell asleep and almost forgot about it. The next morning, I had a work interview at 10 AM. Flashbacks of the night before started hitting me during the interview.

I felt sick.

And alone.

And I didn’t eat for 5 days. I couldn’t.

But I went to that friend that I was with that night, then the police. The one thing the police man said was he would call Rape Crisis Center so I could talk to someone. I told him to make the call- I knew for the first time in a long time I really needed help.

The woman who met me was a breath of fresh air and after a year of counseling, learning to say “No”, and reading multiple books on sexual abuse, assault, and how to get healing very, very faintly did I start understanding that the assault wasn’t my fault.

But still when I think of that night, I have to live with the thought that men don’t always protect women. That people will take what they want, even from the most vulnerable like a drunken girl at a party, or in a cab. That in our microwave culture of “I want it now” some men don’t understand the word “No” when we do use it. And that when you do go to others for help, they won’t understand your story all the time and might not get the seriousness of sexuality- a beautiful and intimate part of each and every person that should be protected and cherished, but often gets tainted in the brokenness around us.

But here lies the hope. Though there were men who didn’t protect or value me, there were friends who stood with me throughout that process and year of counseling. And when I have opened up to other friends about what happened… a REALLY scary and vulnerable thing to do, I have heard them say, “I’m so sorry. I had a similar thing happen, let me tell you about it.” Or “I was a child at camp and got molested, let me tell you my story.” Or “There was an older neighbor girl who molested me when I was in elementary school. I didn’t understand why.”

And these stories are important for sharing and telling because they are a part of us. A part of you and me. And we can find healing in talking about it. And we can be a catalyst for good change as to how men and women look at rape and assault.

I want to feel protected and safe in the world. And I know other women do too. Though I don’t know how to make this happen on my own as there is real evil out there, that doesn’t mean hope, change, and conversations leading to the Truth can’t start…

Your story is painful. But I promise this isn’t the end. Keep shining!

You’re in my prayers,

Another Survivor