Ants

When I opened the pantry door, my heart sank.  There they were, millions of them it seemed, crawling all over a box of Raisin Bran.  They were having an absolute hay day!  Ugh!  As if the year of COVID weren’t bad enough, for some unknown reason, our house has been infested with ants this year.  In the bathroom.  In the kitchen.  The spice cupboard.  The pantry.  Every time I opened a door, it seemed I found more.  I grabbed some spray and annihilated the group that had found the cereal.  I hoped that would be the end of it.

 

Until it wasn’t.

 

A few weeks later, I opened up the china hutch to grab a wine glass.  More ants!  They had found a crystal sugar bowl that apparently was put away with sugar in it!  It was a party for sure.  

 

This time, I decided to tackle the problem in a different way.  Instead of spraying, I put out zillions of ant traps.  I followed their trail and placed them all along their path.  For several days, I just watched them carry away the “food” to their nest.  Then, one day they were completely gone.  

 

No sign of them since.  The whole ant debacle got me thinking.

 

The dedicated worker ants unknowingly made repeated trips back and forth for days carrying poison to their home, to their colony.  What they thought was food was just the opposite.

 

The ant traps, and their poison, are A LOT like our words.  

 

What are we picking up and carrying back to our homes, our neighborhoods, workplaces, and putting out on Social Media?  Are our words something that feeds others?  Builds them up?  Nourishes them and encourages them?  Or are our words poison?  Are they critical?  Negative?  Tearing others down?  If what we’re sharing with others is simply an unkind rant, whether it’s political or social or personal, perhaps we should stop and ask ourselves, “Am I just putting out ant poison?”  

 

Don’t get me wrong, I do think it’s vital that we share our struggles with others who are willing to listen and offer support.  Those are not the words I’m talking about.  I’m talking about words that destroy.  Words that do not bring life.  They bring death.  Death to hope.  Death to healing.  Death to community.  Judgmental words.  Unkind words. 

 

King Solomon who had a reputation as one of the wisest men who ever lived said, "Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones (Proverbs 16:24). 


I hope and pray that we can all learn a lesson and think we before we speak.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Missing Adam - My Nature Boy

Image
Hi Adam. I took an early-morning walk yesterday and thought of you.   Not that I don’t think about you every single day, every hour, sometimes every minute, because I do.   But when I’m out in nature, I think about you the most.   I know you would have loved watching the sun climbing up into the sky yesterday. It was so peaceful and beautiful.    It’s been three months today since you left us.   I miss you so much.   I wonder what you are doing right now.   The Bible says, “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him.” (1 Corinthians 2:9).   I’m sure the nature scenes you’re seeing are much more amazing than anything I could ever imagine.   I can’t wait to enjoy them with you some day. I still remember the first time you ventured out into the Desolation Wilderness by yourself for a week.   We were so worried!   You came home so happy (and stinky!).   You were all scratched up, but filled with joy over having spent t
Read more

Adam's Tree

Image
Somehow, I mustered the courage to open the box and peek inside. Deep breath, Mary, you can do this. One by one, I unwrapped the ornaments from their tissue paper cocoons and hung them on the branches. Of course, the floodgates opened. Baby’s first Christmas – 1991, a baseball – 1997, computer wizard – 2005, red convertible – 2007, holiday camping tent – 2009. They are gifts from my mother-in-law, “Grandma Connie,” who bought each of the kids a yearly ornament until they reached adulthood. The eclectic collection used to hang on the family tree all together, but when the kids grew up, I separated them into their own boxes so they could take their treasures with them.   What should I do with Adam’s box of ornaments? I wondered. Val suggested I decorate a small tree with them, which seemed like a good idea. That is, until I opened the box. I’ve learned in my support group that we cannot go around the pain that is grief, or over it, or under it – we must go through it. Alan W
Read more

The Things We Pack

Image
I gazed out the window of our cruise ship cabin. Grey-blue waves seemed to stretch out infinitely over the horizon. We were 700 miles from San Francisco where we’d departed, headed for Hawaii. Tears welled up in my eyes, fogging up my glasses.  Why am I so sad? I should be enjoying this vacation, not pining away at this window.  But I couldn’t help it. The ocean view was just a visual reminder of the endless grief waves that keep crashing over me. Even though it’s been a little over eight months, they just keep coming.  Will they ever stop?  The grief books assure me they will eventually slow down. I sure hope so! Back in the fall, we planned the late-January vacation knowing that the holidays, followed by Adam’s birthday two weeks after Christmas, would likely leave us drained. We were right. As we packed the Sunday before, I asked Don, “Do you think there will ever be a day when we don’t think about losing him?” “We’ll never stop thinking about him,” Don said. “But
Read more