It’s not every day that a beetle (of all things) makes you sit straight up in your chair and study God’s stunning creativity. But just have a look at this bug that is native to Malaysia, Thailand and Vietnam. If you let your imagination run really wild, picture God placing 400,000 species of beetles in their natural habitats all over the world. After all, it’s not like He uses Fed Ex or UPS.

Then there’s the whole design aspect. When God created this exceptional insect, we don’t know whether He called it into existence all at once or if He assembled its various parts over time. Did He use a miniature Swiss army knife to notch the antennae before hooking them on the ends? And it’s obvious that although the antennae are uncommonly long, they’re perfectly balanced for maintaining the bug’s equilibrium. The beetle is hardly sliding off the ruby red flowers. In fact, it’s more like he’s showing off his team colors.

I’ve read that when God made beetles He displayed an inordinate fondness for them. Maybe that’s why there are so many different species. Whatever the reason for their number and diversity, beetles’ multi-segmented legs move them around the earth with great dexterity and when they pause, we do too.

As soon as I saw this photo, I began to wonder about the life of this Cambodian street vendor.  I suppose I first became captivated when I learned what the woman in the photo is selling.  Her lightweight woven basket contains fried baby frogs, a delicacy for the people who share her culture.

Notice her eyes.  They tell you (and I’ve had this confirmed) that the woman is consumed with earning a living; and because she is trying to survive, she’s not prone to making much eye contact.  Fortunately, she has found employment that has not left her working in the city’s garbage dumps, or in prostitution like some of her peers.

Yet every day this woman works, she puts herself at risk in order to earn a mere pittance in wages.  That’s why she wraps her face – to protect and guard her health (as much as possible) from the emanating exhaust fumes.  She’s always on the move, walking into the traffic and weaving among the cars that have momentarily stopped on the extremely crowded highway to Phnom Penh.

I’m further drawn into this woman’s life when I learn she’s not the only street vendor on the road.  Competition is everywhere, and I am left wondering how much of her food is left unsold at the end of the day.  When she finally walks away from the fumes, the hostile horns, the bartering customers and the intense heat, does she relax?  I’m thinking genuine rest may not be in her realm of regular experiences.  Do the days of her life blur together leaving her with few opportunities to simply dream?  Again, I wonder.

As I have tried to understand the life of someone I will never meet, I recognize that I have raised questions with no known answers.  This image remains filled with intrigue and shrouded in mystery, and so does the life of the woman featured in it.