Outwardly, I play the role of supportive and inquisitive mom but my husband can tell you how I threatened to put our home on the market four years ago when a bat got in our house and how last week I screamed and ran from a creepy silverfish that I promise was coming after me. But since Benjamin’s interests are great and noble, I downplay my fear and try not to taint his opinion.
Fear is tragically contagious, and it can drain the joy out of life and take years to recover from. I don’t want to be the one who introduces that in his life, or in the life of anyone else. That’s why I reached out to Sweet Beez, a nonprofit that puts bee hives on roofs in the Rochester area, and asked if they might let a curious 7-year-old come see what they do.
A few weeks later we found ourselves with about a dozen people on top of a once-bustling warehouse tasting honey and listening to volunteers talk about the importance of bees. It turns out not all of their bees made it through the rough winter, so they would be adding new bees to a hive that night.
Would anybody like to put on a jacket and veil and help?
My son was the first to reach the jackets. A few other adults followed, but none got as close as Benjamin, who wore man-sized gloves that went well beyond his elbows and helped empty the bees out of their traveling case.
Bees flew all around his head and hundreds more buzzed mere inches from his fingers. But Benjamin wasn’t shaken. He had listened to the seasoned beekeepers, and they told him he wouldn’t get hurt if he put on the protective suit.
It made sense to him to trust those who really knew. It made sense to choose faith over fear.