This morning, however, was the worst encounter yet.
There is nothing quite like the sensation of seeing a two-inch long brown cockroach scurry out from underneath your dresser at 5:30 in the morning. My first instinct, of course, was to scream. So, I started to scream, then remembered my roommates were still sleeping and so only a strangled, stifled noise came out of my throat. Also I had just woken up and had no voice. I froze. I didn't know what to do. I have this thing about smashing bugs, and the reasons are twofold: first, that I am almost as terrified of dead bugs as I am of living ones, so seeing a dead cockroach smashed into my carpet wouldn't be much of an improvement over seeing a live one. Second, that when I was a kid I remember smashing ants for fun on the sidewalk, and I remember my Dad teaching me that every living thing is a creation of our Heavenly Father and that for every life you take, you will be accountable. So, as a rule, I don't smash bugs unless they are particularly disgusting, and I definitely never kill spiders, unless it's a black widow. I even try to walk around ants now.
However, a cockroach can carry diseases and is a very unwelcome guest in my apartment. And let's be honest, it is ridiculously disgusting. I turned to look in my closet for a shoe, and when I looked back, it had disappeared. I almost screamed again. I ran into my kitchen and grabbed a potent cleaner. I didn't see it, didn't see it, didn't see it. I put the cleaner down and started looking for my stuff for work. I looked up. There it was again. I turned to grab the cleaner. It disappeared. It looked as if it was slowly moving toward my closet. No way. Not in my shoes! I grabbed a few more things, all the while, keeping an eye on my dresser. I went into the kitchen to drop off my stuff, and when I came back, it was out again. It was moving back toward my door. I ran and grabbed the cleaner. It was gone again. I walked over and turned off my closet light. I walked out of my room and turned around to take one last look inside before I turned off the light. I was trying to decide if it was better to close the door so no more cockroaches would come in, or leave it open so that one would leave. Looking at the bottom of my door now, it wouldn't have really mattered. It could fit underneath, easy. I leaned in to turn off the light, and there it was. I had the cleaner in hand. I stepped forward and doused it. I was too scared to step on it, but I sprayed continuously until it rolled over and stopped moving. Then I sprayed it more and more, quietly yelling, "Die! Die!" Then I stepped on it. Then I sprayed it with hair spray. Then I laid a paper towel over it and stepped on it more and more. There were definitely guts coming out. I grabbed a whole wad of paper towels and scooped up the mess and threw it in the trash.
By the end of the ordeal, I was shaking. I didn't really know why, but I figured it was because I used up so much energy and I hadn't had breakfast yet. But as the day went on, I realized just how traumatized I really was, which sounds silly, but it's true. I started to dread coming home. What if there were more? What if there was a nest under my dresser? I have literally been awake now for 22 1/2 hours straight. I have entered my room cautiously every time, and picked every single article of clothing up off the floor and washed it, whether it was clean or dirty. I washed my bedding. I vacuumed my floor. I sprayed it all down with air freshener.
You know something has really gotten under my skin if I feel the need to pray about it. Never have I said so many prayers about bugs today, that they won't come in my apartment anymore. But I live on the ground floor of a crappy apartment complex in Florida, and last night, one of my roommates left the door open for a while. As one of my friends pointed out today, it's gonna happen.
And I don't know why it gets to me so bad; maybe I'm not over my germophobia like I thought.
But the experience has brought two things to mind. One, obviously, the importance of having a clean room. I had let my room slide for far too long and this is what happens. I never want my room to be messy again.
Two is a little more complicated, and why I'm blogging about it in the first place, so sorry for the long introduction.
As I thought about my prayers asking that there be no more cockroaches in my apartment, I felt a little silly. I thought, well I prayed about it, so the next step is to have faith that Heavenly Father will protect me. But, protect me from cockroaches, really? I mean, honestly, could they really hurt me that bad? And doesn't God have more important things to do than help me with a little pest problem? Wasn't I just blowing it out of proportion? Surely Heavenly Father wouldn't care if I had bugs in my apartment, and serve me right for not cleaning my room, right?
But then, I thought back to a journal entry I made back in August. At the time, there were two people whose personalities I didn't know how to deal with, and I felt as if I had no choice but to be miserable around them because of the way they treated me. And I had tried talking to both of them, but with no success. It was causing me a great deal of stress and anxiety because, obviously, that's what I do when I'm in a situation that I feel is too much for me to handle. But even at the time, it seemed a little silly. Those two people were just being themselves, and I don't think either of them really knew just how much it affected me. I kind of felt as if it was actually my problem and that, again, I was blowing things out of proportion. But that was how I felt, and I couldn't get over the overwhelming anxiety it gave me. As these things were turning in my mind in while driving in my car, I suddenly had the thought to pray about it.
I remember specifically writing down that thought later and the feelings that came with it. I felt as though Heavenly Father were saying to me that even in the little things, He cared. From day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute, my concerns were important to Him because I am one of His daughters. Whether or not my concern sounded silly to other people, or even if it literally was something that shouldn't cause me that much anxiety, even by my own standards, if it mattered to me, it mattered to Him.
Is it going to stop the world that there may be cockroaches in my apartment still? No. But I do know that because I care, God cares. And there may be some here, but because I have faith that I will be protected, they can't hurt me or my roommates, so what is there to fear? And because if I keep the commandments, all things will work together for my good. I know that I've learned important things and reinforced my faith in God, all because that little disgusting creature decided to invade my apartment.
So, now that it is almost 5:00 a.m., I think I'll go to bed, knowing that everything is going to work out, and the exterminator will come tomorrow.
"It is like a grain of mustard seed, which, when it is sown in the earth, is less than all the seeds that be in the earth: But
when it is sown, it groweth up, and becometh greater than all herbs,
and shooteth out great branches; so that the fowls of the air may lodge
under the shadow of it." Mark 4:31-32
