Ponderings

The news is bleak again this morning. A typhoon is reeling toward China reminding us of the increasingly disasterous effects of global warming. The UK uncovered a plot to blow up transatlantic passenger planes reminding us that in war there are no ‘safe zones’. The biblical story of horror for the week (Absalom, Tamar, and Amnon) finds ready parallels in the news of “honour killings” in our day. Bleak.

But the real trauma of the week has not been biblical or global, its very local. Ants. Lots of them. Millions and more. Tiny little ants that are crawling into my house faster than I can shoo them back out. The excessive heat and dryness has taken its toll on their natural habitat and they are seeking greener pastures indoors. Given that our house in 100+ years old, there is no fool proof way to keep them out. Even my trusty bottle of Terro has failed me. My exterminator buddies are coming this afternoon with their high powered weaponry, but I don’t think they have much more of a chance than Rumsfeld (though they are equally confident!). At best we can keep our defense meeting their offense as we pray for cooler wetter weather. Bleak.

And yet. And yet I woke up this morning to the sounds of my daughter chatting happily at her father (no small miracle in the world of teenagerdom). My almost teenage son started his morning by crawling into my bed for a hug. (“One arm only, mom.”) The sun is shining brightly (burning off some of the humidity I pray!), the dog is contented with her family. And my husband asked me out for a “date”. I don’t see world peace in the offing nor even a kitchen free of ants, but I do see grace. And perhaps that is enough for today.