I once saw a baby beetle on the floor of a bathroom,
at a restaurant near the beach.
Tiny. Fragile. Frail.
Struggling so hard to push new wings outward
That he rolled over onto his back,
Legs kicking in the air helplessly.
I bent, and with one finger, gently turned him over.
I asked God then, “Is this how you help us?
One tiny nudge at a time?”
And then I realized that no matter how many nudges I gave
(and, indeed, I gave him a few more,)
I would never be able to push his wings out for him.
And even if I could, what good would it do to deprive him
Of the glory of that last, final push?
(artwork by Shelley Davis)