Spoiler alert – I actually don’t like ant attacks. I wish I didn’t live on a giant anthill. They make me squeamish, and I’m embarrassed to post this blog because I worry you won’t want to come into my home.
But I’m going share anyway because ant attacks have come to represent something that I appreciate. Here are the last three ant attacks.
The Friday Attack – Location: behind the chair in the big room, by the power strip. Number: Less than 500. Target: who knows, but probably some food item that fell off of one of the teenagers’ plates at our Open House the night before. Ant attacks are one of the costs of having 36 people at your house for dinner. (Hmm… seven of them had never been in our home – maybe it was their fault) I wish I didn’t have to pay that cost, but oh well.
The Monday Attack – Location: the kitchen counter. Number: 2,500 for sure. Target: See’s Candy peanut brittle. The peanut brittle came from a friend, Michael as a thank you to me and folks at City Church. I’d been at his final presentation for his graduate level class at Pepperdine when he choked up as told his professor and other students that at as an irreligious person he was shocked to come to City Church and to be so welcomed. His group had studied the inner workings of City Church to recommend some much needed strategies to help us run better, but he spoke most eloquently about how he’d had a spiritual experience unlike anything in his life the night he’d come to our home. I don’t think that’s usual for graduate student business presentations. We loved the peanut brittle he gave us. So did the ants.
The Tuesday Attack – Location: the dreaded kitchen counter again. Number: less than 300 (early detection at 6am this morning). Target: Persian dessert pastries. I love Persian dessert pastries. Just because they were in a closed container, that doesn’t stop ants. I need to remember that. They were left over after last night’s discipleship huddle. People don’t sign up for food, they just bring it. We talked last night about grief, and where is God in the midst of grieving. We spent a long time praying for ourselves and friends who are grieving. And we ate yummy things. I awoke and grieved the ants.
This morning, after carrying my beloved Persian pastries out to the trash, Caris walked by and said, “When are you going to get a professional to do this? It’s not going to stop because we always have people in our home.”