Billy Coffey
Billy Coffey

Fred The Bug

August 10, 2009  

“Look Daddy, look!”

My son raised the plastic container high to my eye level and I peered inside. Behind the white mesh was a pile of fresh grass, a few browned leaves from the maple out back, and one very large bug.

“I think it’s a monster!” he said. “His name’s Fred.”

My son was fickle with his toys. Those playthings that were most valuable today will likely be forgotten by that evening and yard sale fodder by tomorrow. But the Backyard Safari Kit he got for his last birthday has endured. I wasn’t surprised. Such a gift spoke to one of the most basic of human needs—to capture the mysterious and give it a name.

“Fred, huh?” I said. “Perfect name. Don’t think it’s a monster, though.”

“Then what is it?” he asked.

“A big bug.”

“Awesome. Can I keep it?”

“Sure.”

So we sat and watched Fred the Bug. Watched him crawl and eat and hang upside down. My son thought it was fascinating. I did not. Because I knew what was coming.

“You know you should let him go,” I told him.

“Why?”

“Because he’ll die if you keep him cooped up like that. It’s like he’s in jail.”

“I don’t care if he’s in jail,” my son said. “I wanna keep him.”

Fine.

I can proudly say that my son took very good care of Fred the Bug. He fed him and gave him water and made him a tiny bed of grass. He put a tiny mirror in Fred’s home so he’d have the illusion of company. He even told Fred bedtimes stories and included him in bedtime prayers. And all was well.

Until this morning. Until he knocked on the bathroom door as I was shaving.

“Dad,” he said, “do big bugs like to sleep upside down?”

My razor paused in its downward angle. Uh-oh.

I looked down and into his wondering eyes. “Not generally,” I said.

The two of us walked onto the porch and stared. Sure enough, Fred was belly up. My son shook the plastic house. We both listened as his shell clicked against first one side and then the other. That convinced me. Fred had gone to see Jesus.

An impromptu funeral service was held later that day, complete with a tiny hole dug with my pocket knife and two popsicle sticks taped together in the shape of a cross. Somber and serious, we stood over the grave.

I cleared my throat and began:

“We are here today to honor the life of Fred the Bug,” I said. “Fred was a really good bug. He…crawled…and stuff. And made funny noises with his wings. And he was really, really green…”

I looked down at my son, who looked up and nodded appreciatively. His Yankee hat had been removed and was now nestled in his chest. It was the ultimate sign of respect.

“Fred’s with Jesus now,” I said. “Hoppin’ through those green hills up in heaven. So…we’ll see ya, Fred. Have fun. Amen.”

“Amen,” came the tiny echo.

I left my son to pay his last respects in private, promising yet again to be careful not to mow over the gravesite. There he stayed for about ten minutes, at which point the hat went back on his head and he resumed life as a five-year-old.

I was pretty sure that Fred the Bug would go the way of Nerf balls and Legos. Lost in the shuffle. Next week when I mowed the yard again, I could pluck up the popsicle stick cross and put it in my pocket. Nothing would be said.

But I was hoping something would be said. I didn’t want the lesson of Fred the Bug to be lost on my son. Or on me.

Because like Fred, we won’t last long in a cage. We can’t survive being surrounded by walls, especially those of our own making.

Walls of fear. Of doubt. Of hatred and pain. Walls we erect to keep the world out and walls we erect to keep our loneliness in.

The measure of our joy is the freedom we have, our ability to spread our wings and fly. There’s no doubt it’s a big world out there. Scary, too. And it would at times seem easier and more comfortable to shut us off from it. To shrink the world down into something more manageable. There’s less risk that way.

But the truth? The truth is that when we try to shrink the world, we shrink our hearts right along with it.

Share and Enjoy:
  • Print this article!
  • Digg
  • Sphinn
  • del.icio.us
  • Facebook
  • Mixx
  • Google Bookmarks
  • StumbleUpon
  • Technorati
  • Twitter

Filed under: Uncategorized
Tagged:

Comments

  • Anne L.B.

    Oh good grief I'm gonna get in trouble reading this blog late at night when my house is sleeping. I think I injured myself trying not to laugh so I don't wake anybody up when you did Fred's funeral.

    And a minute later I got a lump in my throat. You're too good, way too good Mr. Coffey.

  • Bridget Chumbley

    You handled it like a pro…and of course we all learned a great lesson…another great post Billy!

  • Denise

    Bless you for another wonderful post, you made me laugh and cry. You are good my friend.

  • katdish

    So, is the bug dead in the picture? I can't really tell. That is a very good analogy indeed and I may need you to talk to my daughter about the harsh realities of keeping an ant farm in her room. She won't listen to me…

  • RunningH2O

    Billy,
    When my sister Sarah introduced me to your blog I was amused at first…. then interested… and now I am simply blown away. Your insight, your sincerity, and your amazing ability to convey what you are thinking and feeling leave this other "Redneck"… albeit from the Coastal Plain….. inspired as well as thankful. I am thankful that Sarah found your blog…. thankful that you write it… and thankful that God has allowed you to re-awaken in me the desire to share my own insights again. So thank you Billy…. and I will continue to read with interest.
    Even if your Yankees did kick the tar out of my favorite Boston Baseball team… (See I won't besmirch your blog by using language you find offensive……)……

  • Elaina M. Avalos

    Great post, Billy. I think we cage ourselves far more than we realize!

  • Heart2Heart

    Billy,

    Ah life is deprived of one less bug today and we all share in your son's loss of Fred the Bug. It is followed up by our daughters goldfish demise of Dennis the goldfish.

    We managed to convince our daughter that like Nemo that all drains lead to the ocean and perhaps Dennis would like to spend his life in the watery world of heaven for fish. That would of course require water.

    So with wiped away tear stained cheeks and a small little sniffle, we handed Dennis back to dad whom after saying Dennis' eulogy, passed him in to his porcelain grave and with a flush and swirl into the great beyond we said our goodbyes.

    Much love goes out to you and your son, and I am sure that he is busy even now, attempting to find a new creature for his safari kit. I am just thankful Fred didn't get out.

    Love and Hugs ~ Kat

  • Blessed Mom of 8

    Beautifully said Billy!

    You are a good Daddy!

    God doesn't fit in a box – not even the ones we try to stuff Him in when we want things our own way for our own comfort.

    I PRAISE HIM for that! I don't want a shoebox God or even a case of paper towel God – I want the one who puts a mustard seed of faith in my heart and says now go move that mountain!

    Blessings today!
    Jill

  • Marybeth Poppins

    What a cute story. I though my children were the only kids that named bugs.:) Although unfortunately my kids didn't have such love and compassion for little Roger the Ant. They kinda fear bugs more than they love them…sigh….

  • Kelly Combs

    LOVED THIS! The razor pausing at the downward angle was the PERFECT "show not tell" moment. I could actually see you standing there shaving. (Oops, sorry, didn't know someone was in the bathroom, I'll just wait out here in the hall until you're done.)

    Great writing. You are really a master. RIP – Fred.

  • Heather Sunseri

    I love this story. And, oh-boy, I can relate. My 9-yr-old girl came home from the last day of 4th grade last year announcing that she was the lucky volunteer chosen to care for their class worm farm for the summer (she was carrying the worms along with all the other things that come home on the last day of school)! She has always been the bug, worm, animal lover in our family. It's amazing how much patience a parent must have with those children, yet I'm grateful that she is compassionate enough to show that level of love for all of God's creatures.

  • sherri

    Of bugs and men…

    Where were you back when the boys' goldfish died?

    See, I could have just printed this out and read it to them. Beautiful.

  • Annie K

    I'm not going to tell you about the 'Fred' Jon caught in a plastic bag. That story didn't have quite the lovely ending that yours did.

    I feel bad for those who confine themselves within their own walls. Life is too short…

    Great job Billy. You made me think at 5:30am!

  • Terri Tiffany

    Awesome. Great insight as always:)

  • Jeanne Damoff

    Love this so much! Especially the eulogy for poor Fred. However, as eloquent as the phrase, "He…crawled…and stuff" is, I'm probably going to ponder our human longing to capture the mysterious and give it a name. Well said, Billy. Thank you once again.

  • lynnrush

    You are spot on with: "We can’t survive being surrounded by walls, especially those of our own making."

    Yet we try and try to make those walls, don't we?

  • Liz

    Well, Billy, today, this post was exactly for me. :) I was just toying with putting up some walls to block out some pain. This post makes me rethink whether it is really the best thing for me to shrink my world or not? Food for thought for sure.

  • Liz

    Well, Billy, today, this post was exactly for me. :) I was just toying with putting up some walls to block out some pain. This post makes me rethink whether it is really the best thing for me to shrink my world or not? Food for thought for sure.

  • Shanda

    Oh you are good…you made me laugh and tear up in the same post!

    My son greatly enjoys capturing and bonding with bugs and frogs. After his last toad didn't make it, he now "lets them go sleep with their family" when it gets dark. Bugs/Toads/boys = lots of life lessons!

  • April

    Right on the money, Billy!

  • RickNiekLikeBikes

    The only thing I didn't like about that story was that your son was wearing a Yankee hat…tsk tsk

  • Jess

    Thank you….thank you for reminding me that life is about the little things and the lessons learned from them. Reading your latest post is never a quick thing for me…I read, I re-read, and then I sit and think. I think back to those "little moments" in my life and the the greater lesson to be learned by each. You have a true God-given gift and I thank you for sharing it with all of us. Wonderful….

  • John Cowart

    Hi Billy,

    Yesterday our mutual Blogger friend Sherri suggested that I check out your site. I've read over your main page here; really impressive stuff.

    Raising my six children, I've gone through many Fred The Bug episodes too. It's a dad thing.

    My favorite of your posts is the one about Buster. You handle that with great insight and sensitivity.

    When I was younger, to support my writing habit, I worked as night janitor in a large building where one of my chores was cleaning urinals. The temptation was to give them just a lick and a promise (not literally, you understand). The way I coped was to try to clean each one thinking that Jesus may be the next guy to piss here.

    I'd forgotten that until I read your post about the trashman and the Lord… In Him we live and move and have our very being!

    Good job.

    I'll check back often. You make me think.

  • KM Wilsher

    Have a rough day ahead. This was inspiring and encouraging! Thanks Billy.
    I think this could be acted out by a drama group. . . mmmm. Play?
    Just a thought. :)

  • jasonS

    Nicely done, sir. :)

  • Beth E.

    I never knew I could shoot water through my nose…well, until I read your post while sipping on some!!

    You got me with the eulogy…

    "Fred was a really good bug. He…crawled…and stuff. And made funny noises with his wings. And he was really, really green…Fred’s with Jesus now,” I said. “Hoppin’ through those green hills up in heaven. So…we’ll see ya, Fred. Have fun. Amen."

    I'm gonna be chuckling (and blowing my nose) the rest of the day! ;-)

  • Matt @ The Church of No People

    Great story, Billy. I remember the endless creatures we picked up and tried to keep, and the predictable response from our parents. But that funeral takes it. Awesome

  • Gotta Have Faith

    Poor Poor Fred,

    He was a great friend, but now he is dead.

    I hope to see him soon one day,
    I know not why for now I'm blue and gray.

    Dull with pain from the love that has been lost. Soon I will find, a new friend whatever the cost!

    Fred, may you rest in Bug Heaven!

    Great Post as always!

    Steve,

  • Angela

    I loved this! My kids enjoyed it too.

    So funny, yet so true. Sometimes the tough things we experience in life are really God's way of knocking down those walls and setting us free.

  • Joanne Sher

    You must–MUST donate your brain to science (unless you're willing to give it up earlier :D ). This is amazingly funny, descriptive, and poignant. Wow.