Bee thankful

Bee thankful



Remember way back to our “summerish” days in Sanpete not long ago? I do. It was a different season then, even though there was a definite chill in the air and getting down to freezing some nights. I was pushing the limits again in getting around to winterizing the swamp cooler up on the roof.

I got the job done. Then I noticed that there was another undesirable job to be done – cleaning the leaves out of the rain gutters. Yuck! Yes, I’ve seen the ads on TV for leaf filters. But I’m not yet convinced it would work at my house.


Anyway, while on the roof of the house, I thought back to other times I’ve been up there. Most of those times are related to swamp coolers and Christmas lights. I thought to myself that it wouldn’t be long at all before Christmas lights would be “in season.”

I was right. This past weekend, my neighbors started with the annual routine of stringing lights on the huge pine tree in front of their house.

The man of the house over there has had a “climb the big ol’ pine tree and drape down the Christmas lights” routine for years. He’s a year older than I am (ancient). I have thought each year that he does this, that it will be his last time. I believe that time has come. He’s sending a grown son up the tree now.

When it comes to these things (getting on roofs and climbing trees), my neighbor has been at least as dumb as I am. The odds of one of us plummeting to our death increases year by year.


My neighbor has already confirmed the old saying that “it’s not the fall that gets you, it’s the sudden stop.” He took a “kamikaze dive” from the heights of his barn some years ago.

The score from that event: Broken bones 1 – Death 0.

Seeing those Christmas lights going up across the street makes me feel the holiday social pressure. There are already a couple of neighbors down the street who have their Christmas lights up and running.

When on the roof this last time, I rested for a moment. As I often do when up there, I decided to just listen and take inventory of what I could hear from there. I heard dogs barking, doves cooing, birds twittering (sending tweets [or X messages], I guess you could say), and the ever-present sound of a dirt bike or 4-wheeler.

As I was about to finish my little break, I remembered an odd thing that happened a few years back. It happened when I was putting up Christmas lights earlier than usual – before Thanksgiving.

That was when I looked down at the old fashioned, lit up, multi-colored Christmas lights in front of me and was surprised to see that a honeybee had landed on a blue light bulb. I think she was a little confused. I suspect that she had interpreted the Christmas light as a flower.

I had to admire the pluck of this little, mid-November honeybee. She’s the only one I saw all that day long. She embodied the old saying “busy as a bee.” She was going to keep working right up to the final possible moment of the season.

I thought about the fact that Utah is “The Beehive State” and that our one word state motto is associated with the honeybee: “Industry.” I reflected that this little bee in front of me was industrious.

An apostle in the LDS Church, M. Russell Ballard, gave a speech one time which gave a lot of information about honeybees and beehives. His talk was entitled, “Be Anxiously Engaged.”

He mixes the world of a beehive with religion and it’s really quite interesting even from just a learning about bees perspective. (if you google “Elder Ballard honeybee talk,” you can find the speech if you’re interested)

One point he makes is that “…over its short lifetime of just a few weeks to four months, a single honeybee’s contribution of honey to its hive is a mere one-twelfth of one teaspoon.” Though that seems small, Ballard emphasizes that it’s because each bee does their part, that the hive is successful.

I remembered being grateful for the rooftop visit of that little “Thanksgiving honeybee”. She made me stop and think about how I should keep doing my part in my life. Even though some days I feel like I’ve done my part and it’s time to disengage rather than “be anxiously engaged” as M. Russell Ballard preaches.

I’m trying to count my blessings, more than ever, as I celebrate Thanksgiving this year. I hope you will too. We have a lot of be grateful for and we should put that gratitude into action as we do our parts.