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.”
"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)