RIVER CITY JOURNAL: UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES, WE COULD USE MORE DATA

In the beginning, if I had been put in charge, I wouldn't have created wasps.

Frankly, I don't know what God was thinking when he took the time and effort to make buzzing insects that sting us and hurt us.

He just as easily could have taken a day off. He didn't have to work six days before resting. He could have taken a coffee break instead of creating wasps.

I'm surprised God didn't go golfing instead of messing with wasps. Everyone knows, of course, that God created golf right before barbecue and just after indoor flush toilets. It's right there in Genesis. You can look it up for yourself.

There are a lot of things about God and his bunch that I don't understand. Right now I'm wondering why two tomato plants are flourishing in one of our flower beds -- the same flower bed where zinnia seeds have refused to sprout for three years in a row.

Some of you might want to remind me that you have to have bees before vines produce tomatoes. I know that.

But I also know God could have created bees without stingers if he had wanted to. Did he think those bees needed protection? The only thing bees ever sting is humans, so was God playing a little joke on Adam and Eve?

Just think: If God had given that serpent some fangs, we might not be in the mess we're in right now. Not even Eve would have walked in the high weeds around the tree of knowledge thinking there might be a viper hiding somewhere.

And I know there were high weeds in the Garden of Eden, because God didn't create lawn mowers until after that ugly incident with Satan in the desert.

Yes, that's in the Bible too. You would have seen it if you had been paying attention.

But instead of giving teeth to the serpent, he gave barbs to bees.

Go figure.

This is just one example of what preachers and prophets constantly call the mystery of God.

I like that. Anything you can't explain gets lumped under the heading "mystery." Very convenient.

I've got a lot of mysteries hanging out in the flower gardens around our house.

There are the zinnias, which I've already mentioned. Tulips bloom. Columbine goes crazy. Calla lilies thrive. And now those two tomato plants which, by the way, have produced six luscious tomatoes so far, and the crop isn't all in yet. But zinnia seeds refuse to sprout. And we didn't buy cheap seeds.

In another flower bed we have a row of Communist irises. I'm just guessing about their political affiliation. They're Siberian irises, so they could easily be Communists. They grow like crazy, but they haven't bloomed in two years. Maybe they're operating on some kind of five-year plan.

At the end of the row is one old-fashioned iris called Banana Parfait that produced something like nine enormous blossom clusters this spring. I'm beginning to think Banana Parfait is a former Communist that got rich on American aid. Once again, I don't know this for sure. So there's another one of those mysteries.

We put out a couple of crape myrtle bushes a couple of years ago. Unfortunately, there are hardly any spots in our yard that get full sun. The crape myrtles didn't bloom last year. Then we learned that crape myrtles require lots and lots of sun to bloom. We planted the crape myrtles at the same time we planted a couple of hardy hibiscus plants. There are a crape myrtle and hibiscus in one area that gets the most sun, and there are another crape myrtle and hibiscus in a shadier area about 20 feet away.

Guess what?

The crape myrtle on the sunny side is blooming this year, but not the hibiscus next to it. The crape myrtle in the shady area isn't blooming at all, but the hibiscus next to it is falling over with blossoms.

Here we have, dear friends, another mystery.

I don't want to say God made a few mistakes along the way. I'm sure he did his best.

What I'm looking for is a little divine inspiration.

A revelation, perhaps.

I'd feel a whole lot better about wasps and bees if I could just be enlightened about those zinnia seeds and that goofy hibiscus in the shade and those Communist irises.

Oh. And don't forget the red honeysuckle that hates to be watered. Explain that one too.

In return, I promise never to raise a ruckus about stinging insects again as long as I live.

I'm pretty sure God understands how to handle an offer like that.

P.S. If you read in my obituary that I died from an allergic reaction to bee stings, you'll at least know I got my answer.

~R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.