Going to work the other morning, the cloud shrouded sunrise caught my eye. I remember thinking this was a unique sunrise created for humankind by God. I must confess I was better for having seen it. Tonight, I sit here reflecting back on that sunrise and on all the wonders of nature created by God. And, an uncontrollable surge of curiosity rushes over me.
Why among all the good things of nature did God create things like goat heads and chiggers? I can take the good with the bad, but these two things make no sense to me. Let me plead my case.
Growing up in Texas, our pastures and yards were habitats to gazillions of chiggers. And, half of those gazillions caught rides on my unsuspecting body. They would gather in droves at the top of sock lines, around my waist, and lots of other places I’m just not comfortable in mentioning. Scratching? Scratching made no difference. The more I clawed the worse my body parts itched. Or, maybe it was the more I itched the more I clawed. I don’t really know. I only know I clawed and I itched plenty. Nothing helped the itching. Momma tried all kinds of remedies. She finally resorted to rubbing alcohol. I don’t know why they call it rubbing. There’s no rubbing with alcohol. You put it own. Then you dance around, blow the spot, and whine about the burn being worse than the bite.
But, Momma’s wisdom put it all into perspective, “If it’s burning, that means its working.” That sounded a little fishy to me, especially since she always had this little grin that popped out every time she put alcohol on a chigger bite.
Prevention was the key, only I didn’t know how. These were the days long before all this fancy spray and lotions, and we didn’t know Avon had some kinds of smell good stuff that bugs don’t like. All we had was Seven Dust. So, Mom would dusts the Self kids down with Seven Dust. She sprinkled it on our shoes, rubbed it on our legs, dusted it on our clothes, splattered a little dab on our arms, in our hair, and even put a smudge or two on each cheek. We looked like a chalky version of the Pillsbury Dough Boy. And, when we ran across the yard, we resembled dusty whirlwinds blowing across the yard.
I don’t recall whether the dusty concoction worked or not. I just remember other kids were hesitant about playing with us and even the cats and dogs shied away from the Self kids. How can something so very tiny cause such human misery?
My other complaint is about goat heads. For those who do not know what a goat head is let me explain. A goat head is that little sticker that lives in and among the grasses in your yard or field. The thing has long sharp stickers with shorter ones tucked in and around. Once one grabs a hold, you have to gently feel around and find just the right spot to pull it out of your skin or clothing. If you don’t grab it just right, one of the long razor-like stickers imbeds itself into your finger. They hurt like the dickens. If you pull one off just right and take a look at it, the thing sort of resembles a goat’s head.
Growing up, summer was the time to kick off the shoes until school-time rolled around in the fall. It was, also, the time when these goat heads flourish. Let me tell you quite often these goat heads traveled in herds. They could surround and attack with little warning. More times than not, I would take out across a field and before I knew it I stepped into their turf. Five or six of those things could stick to the bottom of my foot in the twinkling of an eye. Hopping around on one foot trying to pull the painful stickers out, I was in jeopardy of being brought to my knees. On more than one occasion, the goat heads won. While balancing on one foot attempting to extricate my foot from their clutches, I tumbled to the ground in a whole bed of the pointy little things. And, they ain’t too easy to get out of the seat of your pants.
A while back, I was returning from a Texas visit, I had a run in with a field of goat heads. I travel with my doggie-kids, now. During a pit stop in Kilgore, Texas, the Yorkies took out across this field. The Becca, the three pound Yorkie took two or three steps and stopped dead in her tracks holding one paw in the air. Sure enough a goat head had found her. But, Crickett, is bigger and bolder. She kept on and by the time I caught her, her long hair was a free ride to hundreds of goat heads. Guess who had the pleasure of de-goat-heading her?
My fingers looked like they had been mistaken for pin cushions.
I can’t figure the chigger or the goat head out. What’s their purpose? What was God thinking when He created them? I think I’ll put that on my list to ask God when the time com.
For the time being, I guess I’ll just have to keep the shoes on in My Corner of the World. As for chiggers, you just can’t hide from the little devils. I feel like they are watching my every move, waiting hungrily for me, telling their chigger friends, “get ready here comes the chubby lady, and she ain’t wearing the dusty stuff. Um! Um! Good.”
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