Psychoanalyzing Suicide Worms

Every year as the weather turns nice, I eagerly await the coming of suicide worms. Every spring, when it has rained just the right amount and the temperature is exactly as it needs to be, nightcawlers emerge from the ground in droves. They seek out pavement, blacktop, and sidewalks to bask in the newness of spring. Unfortunately, they aren't the brightest of creatures. They either get squished by anything passing by or they end up roasting in the morning sun--being cooked into nasty looking, dried out worm bacon.

Most of you who live in Michigan will have seen and experienced suicide worms. Maybe they are other places, I do not know. I have only seen them here in Michigan. I can remember back to when I was a student at Great Lakes Christian College watching a couple of my friends who were nature lovers take 30 minutes to walk 300 feet from the girls dorm to the Administration building. Along their journey, they would bend and toss each nightcrawler back into the grass so they would not get stepped on or fried. I remember marveling at their yearly exodus.

This morning was the day of the suicide worms. As I walked to the office around 6:30am, the sun was gleaming as it peaked over the horizon. It was a great sunrise where the Eastern sky was ablaze in color. When I came to parking lot, I saw them. There were hundreds upon hundreds of worms soaking in the early rain that still lay on the blacktop. Some were fat and long, completely stretched out, trying to take in every millimeter of existence they could, while others, slithered along trying to find a better piece of asphalt. They were taking in the day as best they could, leaving their safe underground dwellings to experience life a little differently for a moment. As the oranges and reds of the sunrise began to dance on the parking lot, I could see each and every worm's earthy existence standing out against the reflection of the sun.

I am sure there is a reason they come out into the open like they do, not that I want to know why. I am glad they do. It is a sign to me that spring has arrived, just like the birds beginning to sing around 6am every morning. They help me to realize that there is something more to life than staying submerged in the dirt. For them, it is there moment; they grasp at it with everything they are, even at the risk of being scorched by the sun or squashed by a passing car. They don't belong on pavement, but they slither there way there. And in the process, they get noticed by big, stupid humans like me. I don't see them because they are doing something extravagant like back flips or the tango. I notice them because they are something different on the horizon that I am not used to seeing. Their presence is a stark contrast to the drab, boring asphalt they lay upon.

Now, I'm sure some of you are thinking I'm completely nuts, psychoanalyzing a goofy bunch of worms that are dumb enough to go someplace they aren't suppose to go every spring. But am I? Picture in your mind, if you will, a large parking lot with a bunch of people laying down haphazardly on the wet pavement. As people drove by, do you think they would take notice? Certainly, people trying to park in the parking lot would notice, as they had to navigate around all the people laying on the ground. The people laying down wouldn't have to do anything more than lay there to be noticed. They wouldn't have to shout, wave their arms, or make conversation because their existence would be easily seen.

If we are called to be the people of God, the salt of the earth and the light of the world, we have something to learn from the suicide worms. They are what they are called to be no matter where they are. We claim to be God's people. My question would be, does our living match up to what we claim? This challenges us to really think about and be solid on what we claim and believe. It also challenges us to put it into practice, to roll around in it and to feel it ooze between our toes. When we do that, I believe the world will take notice just like I took notice of some suicide worms--not because they did anything fancy, but because they were worms where they shouldn't have been.

Go read the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7) ten times and bask in the newness of spring . . . and if you feel like it, lay down in a wet parking lot and see if anyone notices.