Last night I am walking out of Holy Communion at 9:25, absolutely exhausted. I had just finished a two hour chorus rehearsal for the RTG’s “ Beauty and the Beast “ – the kind of rehearsal where I’ve had fun but also feel like I’ve a 400 meter steeple chase with a sack of feed tied to my back. It’s draining. And once we were done and I had waited with all of the younger singers whose rides were late, then I had to go into the office and three-hole punch my 300-page score so it could go into a three-ring binder, giving me at least a vague resemblance to someone organized. So as I’m finally exiting the church, I can think of nothing better to do than head straight home – and straight to bed.
And then, as I rounded the curve of the sidewalk right in front of the main entrance to the sanctuary, just before heading into the parking lot, something big flew right above my head – – – and at first it looked a lot like a remote control helicopter that we’d given our nephew Henry a few years back. This wasn’t quite that big but almost – moving so oddly – and it just barely missed me before flying onto the outside wall of the church.
Once I’d picked up my pancreas from the ground and recovered from the shock, I walked over to have a look – and there with my own eyes, for the very first time in my whole life, I saw a Praying Mantis. I’ve seen pictures, of course- and even watched the old 1050’s sci-fi classic “The Deadly Mantis” but I had never ever seen a praying mantis “in person” before. I was stunned and amazed and transfixed , and then I grabbed my camera (of course) and began snapping pictures as fast as my compulsive-disordered fingers would move – – – only to realize that the battery indicator showed I was almost out of juice. So I had to take a deep breath, slow down, calm down, get a grip. . . which I managed to do, sort of. Which was good because I ended up watching this thing for real instead of through the lens of my camera, as it tentatively made its way up the outside wall of the church. We have fairly potent spotlights that shine on the church (we’re the church on the hill, and it’s a splendid sight at night) that draw all kinds of insects- and if you look closely, which i was doing for the very first time, you realize that the outside of our church building is covered with tiny ants – enlivened by the occasional katydid – and dozens of moths of every shape and size and color – (well, not really colors – most seem gray) . But all I was interested in watching was this amazing-looking Praying Mantis, which walked ever so slowly and turning its head back and forth as it made its way, almost as though eyeing the options at Old Country Buffet. I could not stop watching – and was there for a full twelve minutes (that’s how slowly this thing was moving) before I realized that sleeping out on the church lawn was not an option. But it felt awful to tear myself away . . . and settling into my land fill of a car to drive home never felt worse.
I have never been a big out-in-nature kind of guy. . . because frankly I’ve never been all that big a fan of the outdoors. My passions, such as playing the piano, watching opera videos, reading books, are either best done or certainly most easily done inside. . . and I’m both happy and relieved to leave the hiking and fishing and whatever else outside folks do to other people. But once in awhile something happens like this to remind me that what is all around us is perhaps more amazing than that which comes streaming to us from the internet. I was reminded last night of a neat surprise I had back in the summer of 1978 when I was walking through the big city park in Atlantic, Iowa with a friend of mine named Nancy Peterson, with whom I enjoyed long, thoughtful talks. We were both on our way to college in a few days and feeling especially nostalgic and cerebral and philosophical . . . and suddenly our pondering didn’t seem to matter because we stumbled into the midst of hundreds of monarch butterflies, clinging to the bushes around us like brightly-colored leaves. It was an astounding sight – and for about three seconds I felt like I should discard my music major plans and go into lepidoptery instead (or whatever you call the study of butterflies) – but of course cooler heads prevailed. But my surprise encounter with the Praying Mantis last night felt similarly exciting and exhilarating . . . as though it were a window into another amazing world that I tend to only glimpse for the most fleeting of moments, especially when life is crazy and I can’t seem to stop running. But last night, I was stopped in my tracks for twelve minutes – which for Greg Berg in the fall is an eternity!
pictured: the Praying Mantis. I ended up taking “only” 20 pictures of it – but this is my favorite because it’s the only one where it’s looking right at me and at my camera, as though it were Greta Garbo, irritated at the intrusion and unwanted attention.