It’s gotta be the worst, most painful way to go. That awful moment you realize you’ve really stepped in it. You flew right into the trap. Just out enjoying the evening air, doing what you always do, going where you always go. Didn’t see the web in the dark, even with your great eyesight. Great wings and glowing tails can’t help you now. You’re caught and she’s coming for you. Soon she’ll have you completely wrapped up in a cocoon of sticky thread, and there you’ll hang, still alive and fully aware of all that’s happening, till she’s ready for some fresh meat.

Can’t say I didn’t warn ’em. I saw her over in the corner, up high so she’ll catch unsuspecting flying critters headed for the light of our window. I saw her shifting in her web, scurrying about getting it ready for company. Then I realized too late she’d gone quiet, so as not to tip anyone off. I especially warned all the fireflies. More than the usual stragglers visited me on the porch tonight. I told ’em she was there. Told them not to go to that part of the porch.

But the poor things seem attracted to the light wood around our window, and the unattainable brightness that lies beyond. It holds some mystery to them that they long to investigate. One of them got caught up with curiosity and soon just got caught up. Poor thing. He hung there scared and desperate to get out of the sticky mess he’d unsuspectingly flown into. I completely understood his plight.

How many times have I happily gone about my business, never in the world suspecting that the enemy lay in wait with a trap set just for inattentive people like me. Then suddenly HHWAP! I slam into an invisible web of sticky goo. The more I struggle, the more stuck I get. Only then do I see the enemy who laid such a nasty trap, coming toward me, ready to wrap me up still alive and hold me captive so he can feed on my still-living soul, sucking it dry of life.

I stood there and watched her wrap that poor firefly, butt still blinking furiously, in a nice, neat cocoon. Long after she was done with him and had gone back to her dinner, another unsuspecting critter who looked like he was pretty well dead now, his little light still blinked away, causing the whole corner of the porch to glow, bathing the web in eerie green flashes.  There he’ll sit, as night turns into day, until she’s ready for her next feast.

As I watched this crazy drama of "the circle of life" unfold, I struggled to comprehend how my God, who is so loving and gracious and good, could create creatures of such raw brutality and cruelty. When I implored Him to help me understand, He just remained silent — that kind of silent that a parent gets when their 4 year-old asks a "why" question that can’t possibly be answered in 4 year-old-speak.

Some things about creation I guess I’ll just never understand.

As I turned to go inside, I stopped in the darkness to once more admire the still-living fireflies dancing in the night air. Suddenly a breeze kicked up and I heard a whisper in the trees, quiet but intense, "Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings." (1 Peter 5:8-9)