The ants go marching one by one: A lesson from the yard

One of the things on my "If I won the lottery" list is to have a yard straight out of Southern Living magazine—or maybe like one of the English gardens I see on Masterpiece Theatre.  Given I have yet to buy a lottery ticket, I do the best with what we've got.  I have a few special spaces to which I tend and I hope one day will make you want to just sit down and appreciate the beauty in nature.

Like my dilapidated pallet garden, which is slowing coming back to life after being nearly destroyed by hurricane Matthew in 2016. We have received a lot of rain in recent days, which has brought renewed life and growth. The flowers are blooming, the fish ponds are full, the butterflies and birds are flitting and flying, the grass is green—but so are the weeds. It's like they procreate overnight. And good luck trying to pull some of them by hand without hurting yourself.

And the ants. Good gosh. If the ants were to ever rebel, we would be in trouble. As I've worked in the yard the past few days I've waffled between amazement and fear of them. Especially fire ants. Those minute little minions have built townhouses and condos everywhere. 
  

"You lazy fool, look at an ant. Watch it closely; let it teach you a thing or two" - Proverbs 6:6 (MSG)

Maybe you think of this scripture—or a Pixar movie—when you think about the industrious little ant. How inspiring and empowering—just think of all we could accomplish, regardless of our size, background, or resources, if we just persevere!

Well, that's a lesson for another day. Remember the weeds? Well, this isn't so much about weeds either but, that's where today's lesson began.

I felt pretty safe today, armed with my long handled garden claw. I stood high above the ant towers, the claw making short-shrift of crabgrass, dandelions, and other thorny things. It wasn't until I felt that first sting on my left hand, then my right, that I realized I was in trouble. 

Fire ants!

As I rinsed my wounds with water and applied pain and itch relief cream, I berated myself. How stupid! How did I not see that the ants were on me? Focused on the task at hand, they caught me unaware. But it was in the midst of my pain and regret that I sensed God's quiet revelation—the other lesson to be learned from the mighty little ants.

They sneak up on you when you're not aware. When you focus too hard on what you think to be the right thing—or on what you know to be the wrong thing.

My first encounter with fire ants years ago left scars on my feet. They served as a reminder of the painful experience and how long it took to heal. I became more cautious, more aware of my surroundings. To not stand still in a dangerous place. But scars fade. And how easy it is to become complacent,  to believe that I am in complete control of my circumstances.

So, yes; let me look at the ants from a new perspective. The little things that I think I can control, yet, over time, build up and threaten to overwhelm me when I am focused on other things. Those things that bite and sting and scar. Doubt. Fear. Distrust. Judgment. Vanity. Jealousy. Insecurity.

Ouch. 

Thank you, God, for reminding me that my scars—seen and unseen—serve a purpose.  Help me to keep my eyes on my thoughts—those insidious fiery ants—making sure they do not build strongholds in my mind or heart. Help me to know when to run from the poisonous and painful. To always stand firm in the wisdom of your Word.