Julie is my friend who lives in Sacramento. Julie's bees are, well, her bees. She also has chickens and just got a small dog. But she named her book after the bees.
Julie's bees aren't particularly noteworthy. They're just bees that live in a hive in a sizeable backyard in Sacramento, California. But Julie's writing is delightful. She wrote about urban farming, her daughter's love of chickens, keeping the bees safe when the forest fire smoke blanketed the entire valley, and the hummingbird nest in the light fixture in her patio. Of course, she intertwines spiritual insights and encouraging verses.
Julie wrote her book for her friends and family; she never looked for an agent or anything, and she self-published. That's where the mix-up occurred. Her husband teaches a lot at their church. At the time Julie was ready to send the final file into Amazon's self-publishing service, her husband was teaching on Revelation 9—specifically, the demonic locusts that wear crowns and have human faces, women's hair, lions' teeth, iron breastplates, and tails like scorpions. When Julie grabbed the image of a cute, fat little bee nestled inside a squash blossom, she accidentally got her husband's image of the evil locusts from the abyss, instead.
Sadly, she didn't notice until the first box of fifty books arrived at her house. Her husband saw the covers and assumed she had made a book of his Revelation studies for his class. His students that Sunday were very confused—were Julie's bees, chickens, and puppy in the book of Revelation?
No. The book
Julie's Bees has nothing to do with hellish grasshoppers or the end times. It's not even some apocryphal or pseudepigraphic book that's tucked in the back of Catholic Bibles like
the Book of Jubilees.
What did she do with the books? She sent them out for Christmas. But not before affixing a sticker on the front: "Don't judge this book by its cover!"