Battle of the Ants

“Ants in the laundry room! Ants in the laundry room!!!”

This is an actual text message sent by me to my dear husband this week.  I was about to launch World War III in my laundry room.  The full force of all my fury was getting ready to be unleashed on these teeny tiny little ants that were likely just trying to avoid a late March arctic blast.  

An entire can of Raid later, the ants were dead and I was exhausted.  My rage against the ants had left me totally depleted.  I collapsed on the couch and thought, “What is wrong with me?”  Why did something so tiny (literally and figuratively) generate such a huge emotional response?  I realized that I have been having big, over blown, borderline cray-cray reactions to just about everything lately.  In fact, I’ve been living my life like an all caps twitter feed.


YOU MEAN WE HAVE TO WAIT ANOTHER DAY BECAUSE THE U.S. CONSULATE IS CLOSED FOR A HOLIDAY? HOW DARE THEY!?!

I HAVE ASKED YOU FIVE TIMES TO PICK UP THESE LEGOS!

NO, YOU MAY NOT HAVE ANOTHER COOKIE!

SHE NEVER EVEN SAID, “THANK YOU!”

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, TURN OFF THE TV!!

WHO ATE THE LAST CADBURY CREME EGG!?!?


I realized, after those ants, that I am walking through life like this:

Sometimes, we pick up our swords to fight a cause and we start off with great intentions.  There are battles that need to be fought.  There are wrongs that need to be right.  Some of us become warriors because we have to.  

I know mothers of special needs children who are mighty warriors, fighting to make sure their children get the services they need.  I know social workers and AIDS advocates and legal aid lawyers and teachers and pastors who are warriors, fighting for what is right and good every single day.  

We often become warriors in an instant, because life is fickle and sometimes fate deals an ugly hand.  

When your aging parents need more care than their social security benefits will provide, you become a warrior.    

When your spouse is diagnosed with cancer and there is nothing to do but wipe away their tears and clean up their chemo induced vomit, you become a warrior.  

When your grown up child is lost in a haze of drug addiction and brings home yet another baby for you to raise, you become a warrior.  

When you realize that you have a child living thousands of miles away, going to bed every night without knowing he is loved, you become a warrior.  

This is the great epiphany I had after my epic war against the ants:  Eventually, the battle needs to end and the warrior must remember that before it all began, she was and still is a child of God.   

All of us, even those of us with the noblest battles to fight, eventually need to stop fighting, lay down our swords, and come sit at the feet of Great Warrior.  

When we do this, we remember why we are fighting in the first place: 

We fight not for ourselves but for others because somewhere in our  heart of hearts we heard the prophets sing, “Let justice roll down like living waters,” and our heart sang back, “Yes!”   

We love because he first loved us and this is the truest of true loves- the love that leads us to stand in the gaps, to walk through fire, and to slay dragons without thinking twice.   

We fight because we have encountered the Resurrected One and we know, we know, we know that the battles have already been won.  

This is the God who said to the Israelites,  “Don’t worry about those Egyptians chasing after you with their might army.  I’ve got this.  I will fight for you, just stand still.”   

Stop running.

Put down your sword. (or that can of Raid)

Let go of the fight. 

Take a deep breath.

Close your eyes.

Be still.  

Feel God’s arms wrap around you like a mother holds her child.

Now open your eyes and watch the seas part.