I was peering behind the back of a chest of
drawers. The lid on the floor next to the wall was tipped up, the liquid
spilled out. And I heard someone say (or thought it to myself): “Ant poison is
like sin.”
My parents’ house, where I grew up was built on a slab, and I
remember my mother’s constant war with the ants. The houses had been built on
what had once been interminable Illinois corn fields, and my mother decided
that the ants just weren’t willing to give over their turf.
Once our little puppy swiped his paw under the chest of
drawers and licked off the poison, which brought on a night of worry and
sympathy from us all until he fought off the poison and survived.
I think that
might have been the end of setting out liquid bait.
Sin is like ant poison.
It fills our hearts and cracks our
world.
My daughter said to 4-year-old Callie:
“Tell me
about this picture.”
“It’s a cup
with bleed in it.”
"What?”
"It’s a cup
with bleed in it.
Remember at Easter we talked about bleed in the cup?”
Ant poison is like sin.
And all that can be done with sin is to pour it out at the
foot of the cross so Jesus’ blood can cover it over.
"Ant poison is like sin."
It was a strange dream—or vision—to awake to as the sun
filtered through the fabric blinds.
“Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal
life.” (Jn. 6:63)
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