There was a time, long ago, when paper had not been invented. At least, it hadn’t been invented by humans. There were no books, no sticky notes, not even things like paper towel.
But before humans were making paper, the Paper Wasp was. And long ago in Ancient China, the Paper Wasp helped change life as we know it…
Paper Wasp approached her task with joy and vigor. She’d chip little bits of wood off a tree, then carry those chips in her mouth, back to the spot she’d chosen for her nest. Then, she’d glue the chips together, turning them into paper.
Bit by bit, her project was taking shape. Layers of paper – coloured in various greys, depending the wood she used – curved around into the beginnings of a spherical nest.
There’s still a long way to go, she thought to herself. But it’s getting somewhere! When it’s finished, I’ll have created something new, something beautiful, a nest where I can rest and care for my children.
She was happily absorbed in her activities when someone called down from below.
“What are you doing?” a small voice asked.
Paper Wasp looked down to see a Little Grasshopper, staring up at her from the ground.
“I’m building a paper nest,” she called to him.
“Isn’t that a lot of work?” the grasshopper asked.
“It is,” Paper Wasp agreed, “but it’s what I feel God made to do.”
“If you need a nest so bad, why not just steal someone else’s?”
“I believe in adding to the world,” Paper Wasp explained.
Little Grasshopper shook his head, laughing. “When we grasshoppers want something, we just take it! No harm in that, right?”
Paper Wasp felt very passionate about her belief. “Here. I’ll come down to you and draw you a picture.”
She flew down, landing next to Little Grasshopper.
Paper Wasp began to draw circles in the dirt. “You see, these represent the things in this world. The people who make things add more to the world: that way, everyone has more! But the people who take merely move the circles from one spot to another…”
Pausing, Paper Wasp frowned. She heard crunching, coming from up where her nest hung.
Looking up, she gasped in horror. A group of grasshoppers had appeared on her nest. With their jaws, they were ripping apart its delicate paper.
When they caught her horrified gaze, they laughed, and so did Little Grasshopper.
“Fooled you! Fooled you!” Little Grasshopper giggled. “I was just distracting you, so my fellow grasshoppers could eat your nest!”
“Not very appetizing, though!” A grasshopper called down.
With an agonized cry, Paper Wasp rushed to her nest, stinger readied for attack.
The grasshoppers scattered at her approach, laughing all the more as they easily evaded her.
“Crying, crying!” The grasshoppers chanted. “Why all the crying? If you were half as clever as us, you’d have nothing to cry about!”
“Here’s the truth,” Little Grasshopper said. “The world is owned by the people who take, not the people who build! It’s not the bug who makes something, but the bug who ends up with that something that wins! Work as hard as you want, but in the end, you’ll wind up with nothing if you don’t learn to take what you want from others.”
With that, the grasshoppers all bounded away, racing off in different directions. Poor Paper Wasp couldn’t follow them all.
Paper Wasp turned back to her nest, heart dropping at the sight of the rips in her carefully-made design.
“Well,” she sighed, trying to keep herself calm, “at least it’s not completely destroyed.”
So she set to work repairing the damage.
The joy and vigor that once motivated her dimmed. Now, as she glued each tear, her frustration grow. Her soul wore fast, as did her body. Yet she continued to travel between the trees and her nest, determined to finish her work.
On one such trip, she passed by a Calm Scorpion, relaxing upon a pile of rocks.
“Hey there!” He called. “Why so weary, buzzing insect? Why not come down here and take a breather?”
Needing a rest, Paper Wasp conceded and landed near the Calm Scorpion.
“I’m making my nest,” Paper Wasp explained through heavy breaths. “It’s become hard work since the grasshoppers damaged it.”
She sighed. “Now I’m afraid some other bug will come along and destroy it, and all my work will go to waste again. But I really want to finish my nest.”
“What do you need a nest for?” Calm Scorpion asked. “To sleep in?”
“I can use it for that,” Paper Wasp said.
“To raise babies in?”
“I can use it for that too.”
Calm Scorpion chuckled. “If it’s so much work, and you just need it for sleeping and raising babies in, why not live under a rock instead? Or maybe tuck yourself into the cavity of a tree? It’s good enough for many other bugs, myself included! Why isn’t it good enough for you? Hmm?”
“Well,” Paper Wasp admitted, “I could just sleep under a rock, or in a hole in a tree, and raise my babies there too. But I’m not just making the nest for those reasons: I’m making it because I believe it’s what God made me to do.”
Shaking his head, Calm Scorpion told her: “Friend, it’s not necessary to work so hard to build something new. I live wherever I feel like it, free of cares and free of work. You won’t have to worry about all your hard work getting destroyed again, if you don’t bother to build a nest in the first place. You can’t fail if you don’t waste your time trying.”
Paper Wasp was taken aback. “You think it’s worthless?”
“You said it,” Calm Scorpion agreed. “You don’t need to make a nest.” With that, he tucked himself back under his rock.
For a moment, Paper Wasp stood still, not sure what to think. Then, she sighed. I think I need to get back to work, she told herself.
So she did… for a time. She found it hard to stay motivated, as thoughts of the thieving grasshoppers and stress-free scorpion floated through her head.
As she flew off to another tree, her flight meandered, and she found herself over an ant’s nest. Busy ants went to and fro.
One Busy Ant called up to her. “Friend, you’re looking very sad! What’s on your mind?”
Paper Wasp landed next to the Busy Ant.
“I was trying to build my nest,” she explained. “My nest made of paper. But it’s hard, and it feels like I’m wasting my time. You see, a group of grasshoppers ripped it. And then a scorpion told me it’s not worth building a nest anyways, because I could just hide under a rock like him.”
“Oh, don’t listen to them!” Busy Ant said. “Since when were grasshoppers and scorpions ever as clever as wasps and ants?”
“I just want to do well,” Paper Wasp sighed. “I’ve always believed that God made me to build paper nests. And I’m stressing over making it beautiful and good for him.”
“Why, my dear,” Busy Ant chuckled. “The solution to your problem is very simple.”
“It is?” Paper Wasp asked.
“Yes,” Busy Ant said. “I was told about a God growing up, but I have embraced logic and reason now. Now I know there is no God, and I am much better off. You see, if there is no God, then God doesn’t care if you build paper nests or if you don’t. You can do whatever you want!”
Paper Wasp wasn’t sure what to say to this. “But I believe there is a God.”
“Of course, you can believe whatever you wish,” Busy Ant conceded. “But as for making your nest beautiful, well, science tells us that beauty is all in the imagination. In ‘the eye of the beholder,’ as they say. There’s really no such thing as beauty.”
The ant motioned around the mound with her antennae. “Building with grains of dirt is far more practical, and I think you would have a much easier time if you just joined us in building our mound. What do you think?”
Paper Wasp’s heart felt very heavy. “I’ll think about it,” she said quietly. And with that, she flew off.
She returned to her nest, landing upon it. It seemed so frail, so insignificant, and so far from complete.
I have to keep trying, she told herself. I have to get more wood chips.
She flapped her wings until they buzzed. But they felt so sore, so weary. A tear slipped from her eye.
Then, her wings stopped buzzing.
There’s no point, she decided. It’s not worth it.
And she sat there, still and silent, for a long moment.
