When I was six months old our family moved from Upstate New York to Houston. We lived in Houston until I was eleven years old, by then I’d gone from being an only child to the oldest of three.
When it was just me, mom and dad our family engaged in a ritual most every day, we took a stroll in the neighborhood. We only had one car at the time, and a couple of bikes, so walking was a pretty central part of how we spent our days.
Initially my parents did what many parents do, they wore me while walking. My wife and I wore our two children when they were small too, it’s great for bonding, and creates hands-free parenting as well, a double win.
After a while I got older, and heavier, and learned to walk as most kids do. It was then that my parents transitioned from wearing me during our neighborhood jaunts to having me walk by their side.
Perfection
Often we’d walk to the grocery store, my mom recalls taking an LL Bean canvas bag with her and filling it with groceries. My mother tells me when her hands were full with groceries, instead of holding hands I’d simply hold onto her pocket to stay close.
My mom also tells me that I adored a Weimaraner that lived in the neighborhood. Most days during these walks the dog would see us through the window and playfully say hello. Weimaraners are a larger breed, they move in this big floppy way, and have these striking blue and greenish eyes. I still like them.
It was also during these walks I started the first of many collections. Before collecting things like stamps and pennies and baseball cards and video games, for me, it began with stones and flowers. I’d pick up a stone, pick a flower, and then bring them home.
And so our daily walks went. They were filled with grocery trips, time spent with favorite neighborhood dogs, and collecting some of God’s creation by way of stones and flowers. This is the stuff of life.
Bites
Then one day something happened that wasn’t according to this idyllic daily routine.
I was about a year and a half old, and still in diapers. (That transition, to big boy underwear, admittedly took a few more years ? )
During one of our daily walks mom and I stopped near the neighborhood entrance, right next to the sign that announced the name of the apartments we lived in. Wearing just a shirt and diapers I decided to plop down right by one of the wooden posts that held up that neighborhood sign.
It was then, unbeknownst to either of us, that hundreds of fire ants came up from their unseen fire ant mound, that I’d unwittingly sat on, and began biting at me with their normal fire ant fury.
In case you’re unfamiliar with fire ants, they’re typically found in the southeastern and western US, and are larger than common ants. Even worse, fire ants carry venom strong enough that it, with enough bites, has the capacity to kill small animals.
And now hundreds of them were crawling over baby me.
Within seconds I was covered in fire ants, getting bit by some, screaming my little toddler my lungs out, wailing in pain.
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After freeing me of the ants – she recalls I’d been bitten about a dozen times – she washed me off, treated the bites with aloe vera, and put my clothes back on, trying to get things back to normal.
She tells me she felt horrible about it, and as a parent now myself I totally get that; seeing our kids suffer is a horrible feeling.
On this day there were no walks for groceries.
On this day there were no visits to friendly neighborhood dogs.
On this day there was no stone collecting.
On this day there was no flower-picking.
Instead, it was a day of pain and injury, tears and screams, and fast action on my mom’s part to rid me of those nasty ants in my pants as best she could.
Outside the Garden
The story of Genesis 3 tells a similar tale. It’s the story of original sin, complete with the likes of Adam, Eve, daily walks with God, a pesky serpent and a tempting apple. After that life here on earth gets kind of messy.
I’m going to guess that most everyone reading has heard the story many, many times before. And odds are if you pop into church here and there you’ll hear this story many times again.
Instead of delving into that well-worn narrative I’d suggest those fire ants in my pants represent the challenges we face living outside the garden of Eden.
We were made for daily strolls with our Creator. But sometimes fire ants appear, out of nowhere. And those fire ants cause oodles of pain to both us and the one that made us.
We were made with nary a care in the world, with all our needs met. But sometimes fire ants appear, stripping us of basics like clothing and food.
We were made to appreciate creation. But sometimes fire ants appear. And their very presence separates us from what brings us joy, things like family, friends, and beloved animals. Things like the rocks of the ground, the flowers of the field.
Let me encourage you to keep an eye out for fire ants.
With a little bit of practice we can better spot, and avoid, the mounds they live in. We do this with the reading of scripture, through conversations with fellow Christ-followers, and by participating fully in our communities of faith.
And, with a little bit of practice, we can better spot when others find themselves sitting in those same fire ant mounds, screaming their lungs out, crying for help. In those moments we are called to guide them away from the mound, and toward safety. We are called to help ease their pains, to place balm on their wounds.
Life is far from perfect. And fire ants, unfortunately, are with us to stay. But it is in knowing where the fire ants live, then avoiding them, and then helping others avoid them too, it is there where we find our purpose.
And it is there where we can thrive, for all of our days, joy-filled, pain-free, right alongside one another, living in harmony with the world, just as our Creator intends. Amen.