The Night of Yellow Jackets: A Lesson in Surrender 🐝

Here it is, 3 a.m. again. I toss, turn, and stir in bed. Sleep won’t come. Fear creeps in quietly, like a shadow at the edge of the room.

Last night before bed, we found bees in our daughter’s room. I wish they were honey bees—gentle, golden, purposeful—but no. These were very large yellow jackets. It became one of those here we go again situations: kids melting down because dinner was running late, the energy in the house climbing higher with each moment.

Kyle was trying to take care of the five bees in her room—until five turned into ten, and the buzzing panic escalated. But as he spiraled into frustration and fear, I stayed rooted. Breathing deep, sending prayers to the heavens that it would all work out as it was meant to. Because deep down, I truly believe it will.

After the chaos settled and dinner was finally served, a new heaviness appeared in my stomach—the guilt. The chemicals from the bee spray Kyle had used to kill a small nest above our garage were now leaching into the ground where our children play, where our chickens sometimes roam. The pit in my stomach asked: How does this align with the values I hold so close—living organically, honoring nature, and teaching my children to do the same?

Still, I put on my bee gear and climbed into our daughter’s attic room, flashlight in hand. No nest, no clear answer. Yet the bees continued to sneak in. Kyle’s stress rose again, but I stayed grounded with a quiet knowing that somehow it would all be okay.

In that moment of stillness, I looked up the spiritual meaning of yellow jackets in the home. One phrase jumped off the screen:

“The presence of yellow jackets can be a reminder to set and defend your personal boundaries.”

Those words cracked something open inside me. Boundaries. Especially with my daughter. The work I’ve been doing to heal the sacred feminine through her—the generational trauma passed down like heirlooms no one asked for. It’s exhausting, but I feel the guidance of something bigger. The heavens above, the ancestors behind me, the earth beneath me.

And yet, here I sit at 3 a.m., called to write. Called to listen.

The message is clear:

Lean into the unknown.

Lean into the fear.

Have faith it’s all working out for your highest good.

Surrender.

Surrender.

Surrender.

As my body fully exhales, I get curious. How often do we all get caught up in the fear of the unknown? I’ve gotten better at navigating it, but there’s always room to grow. And when I can acknowledge the fear, name it, and view it with curiosity, something shifts. Maybe it’s the surrender. Maybe it’s grace.

So, beloveds, my invitation to you is where in your life could you surrender more deeply into the unknown? Can you feel your guides — or whatever you call them — wrapping you in a blanket of love and protection as you do?

Take a breath. Release the fear.

Lean into surrender.

In Peace, Love and Service,

Rebecca 💛🤍