Buzz

The War of the Worlds.

That movie—the 1953 version starring Gene Barry, not the 2005 one with Tom Cruise—popped into my memory the first morning I heard the buzz in the woods across the road. It was the sound the Martian ships made as they lay in wait for hapless humans.

Cicadas.

Here in our part of Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley we’re about 1 1/2 hours away from the District of Columbia, the epicenter of Brood X’s emergence. This group of insects hides out underground for 17 years before coming out to party for a few weeks. (By the way, “X” stands for “10,” not the letter. Like the Super Bowl.)

The alien hum is created by the males calling to potential mates, belting out bug versions of “Light My Fire” and anything by Barry White.

I hear their songs whenever I walk outside, and as I’ve listened I’ve realized I have something in common with these lovesick insects.

I’m buzzing, too.

Thanks to COVID-19, I’ve been underground for over a year. Okay, not truly hidden away. Mr. Pettit and I have visited our children and grandchildren, traveled with our trailer, shopped, volunteered and attended church. But, with the exception of family time, we’ve done everything in a masked-up, socially distant way. No hugging my friends at Bible study. Dodging fellow humans in public places. Sanitizing our hands and every surface they touch when we’re out and about.

No more. When we chose to become vaccinated, we did so with the assumption that the vaccines are as effective as the experts say.

So we’re out in the sunlight, partying like it’s 2019.

I think it’s called “living.”

We’re not the only ones. I heard the buzz of shoppers at Food Lion last week, discussing the proper method for determining a watermelon’s ripeness. I heard it at Costco, when a gentleman recommended an electrolyte powder I was considering. I could see his smile and he could see mine and we could understand each other, unencumbered by cloth or paper. I heard it at Bible study last week, in the laughter of the other ladies. I saw it in their faces when one woman shared an encounter with God’s comforting presence.

I felt it at church yesterday, when I finally welcomed the embrace of a member known for her mighty bear hugs. She held on for a long time, like she was trying to convey all of her pent-up affection in one go.

The world is still a scary place. Another virus (or a mutation of COVID-19) could sneak up on me. News outlets are wall-to-wall with stories about victims of car accidents, random violence and terrorist attacks.

But fear is a lousy companion. I’ve hung out with him more times than I want to admit. He never cleans up the messes he makes. He has no sense of humor. And he never wants to go anywhere, insisting that we stay underground, safe in the darkness.

And yet I continue to welcome him.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Isaiah 41:10

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7

For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. 2 Timothy 1:7

I sought the Lord, and he answered me;
he delivered me from all my fears. Psalm 34:4 (All verses are from the New International Version.)

You get the picture.

When I take hold of Jesus’s hand, He gently leads me back into the sunlight. His Light..

Sing with me.

It’s time to make some noise.