Tiny Teacher

This morning I was in the hot tub with a client when I saw one of these little guys slip into the water and begin to struggle.  It was paddling as fast as its little legs could, but it was only serving to push itself around the edge of the hot tub. I really wanted to help the little bug, but it was on the far side of my client and would require some maneuvering to get to. I refocused on my client and soon enough it’s little body came floating towards me.
I felt sad for this tiny creature, if only I would have helped out. I stuck my fingers into the water to lift it out and much to my delight it’s little feet gripped onto my fingertip. I lifted my hand up onto the side of the tub thinking it would eventually revive completely and climb off onto the ledge.  The poor thing would walk two steps, collapse, walk a step, collapse again. It was so water logged. I decided I would get it onto a finger and then onto the wood where it could dry more quickly. I scared it. It hopped away, and back into the hot water.
Thankfully it was within reach. I got it safely out of the water and onto the wooden trim where I watched the grain of the wood soak up all of the water it could. It took one step, then two, flexed a wing, paused, and turned toward the sun.  I knew then it was going to be all right.
This experience got me thinking about what this adorable little insect was teaching me.  How often do we feel like we are drowning in life, unable to get a foothold? How frequently do we see things going sideways and not take action due to inconvenience, fear of making waves, or “it’s not my job” syndrome?  How many times have we finally reached out at the last possible moment? (Whether as the life preserver or as the one in the hot water?) And I know that I can count more times than I have fingers and toes that I personally have jumped back into that very same hot water out of fear of the unknown.
What a huge gift from a tiny critter. The opportunity to step back, look at life and appreciate that I am always the student.