“Don’t kill it.”
She was startled by what I said when I exclaimed to one of the walkers at the Camino trying to take a bug out of my neck.
“It’s only a ladybug.”
“Still, please don’t kill it and give it to me.”
She gently picked it up and placed it on my arm.
With a sigh of relief that it is safe, I brought it to the nearest bush, let it settle on one of the leaves and whispered have a good life.
Ladybug has such a power to me. It brings back memories how a tiny creature saved my life.
It was warm fall weather, and I was on my way for a vacation to Nuevo Vallarta, Mexico. I should be thrilled in going for a week-long all exclusive holiday, but I wasn’t. Depression was taking hold of me at the time.
I didn’t want to go. There was a foreboding feeling that should I go, I will not return. Another thought that comes and goes that life is not worth living when depression arises.
“Give me one reason to live?”
I was talking to the statutes on my altar. They are the statues of Mother Mary, a crucified Jesus Christ on the cross, the saints, and angels. Can they hear me? I doubt that they can. They are just statues.
It was a moment of madness.
Over and over again, I repeated: “Give me one reason to live!”
Tears are flooding my eyes, everything looked obscure. As my eyes were wandering all over my bedroom, I saw a small red dot just above the curtain wall.
Curiosity took hold of me and went close to check what it was. When I came closer, it became clearer that it was a ladybug.
Instinctively, I tried to pick it up to release it outside. However, it flew away, and I lost sight of it.
I searched the walls, the curtains, the ceilings, the floor, the bed, behind the door of my bedroom for the ladybug and for the life of me I cannot find it.
“Where are you ladybug?”
“You cannot stay here.”
“ You will die here.”
“There is no life for you here.”
“You need to show yourself.”
On and on I talked to the ladybug. It felt a long time searching for it, and I became aware of the time that I need to leave the apartment otherwise I will miss my plane for Mexico.
Imploring to the ladybug, I beg: “Please come out. I have a plane to catch.”
As I said this, my eyesight cleared up from crying and saw the ladybug in the far corner of the west wall of the ceiling.
Finally, I caught the ladybug, placed it in between the palms of my hands so it won’t escape, went to the balcony, opened my hands and gave a soft blow of air from my lips to give it a nudge to fly. And it flew. Free, the ladybug is now free.
In Nuevo Vallarta, a new door opened up to a different meaning of living a life.
There I experienced other forms of life: releasing a bucket full of baby sea turtles into the vast ocean, talking to the iguanas and lizard, watching the sunset, walking barefoot on the sandy shores, tasting the saltiness of the sea, feeling the warm rain on my skin, horseback riding along the Andes Fault and visiting some ruins.
Coming home, my disposition in life is a bit brighter. Depression still exists, but I don’t find it overwhelming.
When life becomes unbearable, I think of the ladybug. A Godsend. I firmly believe in the God of small things. Life grows into a series of little things in faith of gratitude. The possibility is due to a single ladybug.
The power of one.