The Intuition of a Bee

I watched a bee float between purple ironweeds on my walk this afternoon. Its wings flapped furiously between clumsy landings. I stood in awe as it sucked out nectar with its microscopic tongue. Once it extracted what it could, it buzzed off to another ironweed.

It occurred to me that it wasn’t worried about where its next source of nectar would come from. Nature took care of that. The bee’s only job was to follow its intuition.

I noticed purple ironweeds were everywhere, sometimes grouped together and other times standing alone, but plentiful nonetheless. And the bee trusted it would find more.

The bee made me wonder—is everything I need in plentiful supply? Or am I consumed with fear?

Is everything I need all around me, like the ironweeds are for the bee? After all, doesn’t it stand to reason that if the good Lord provides for a single bee, He would also provide for me?