There weren’t many dangers at Mama Bea’s and Daddy Freeman’s farm in Shake Rag. There weren’t any bears or cougars, at least outside of a little boy’s imagination. Probably the most prevalent and hated dangerous critter was the cotton mouth moccasin, like the one that bit Mama Bea in the strawberry patch (Snakes and Gardens). Daddy Freeman probably manufactured more dangerous situations than what actually existed. Like the time he had me stick my hand down into a paper sack to guess what was in it. Turns out it was a snapping turtle that grabbed my finger and wouldn’t let go. Ouch! Then there was the time he wanted me to ride a horse he had raised from a colt. As we were trying to catch him to put a saddle and bridle on, he busted through two 1 X 6 planks and ran straight through a four strand barbed wire fence. That was the end of that and I’m still quite certain my grandfather loved me, I think.
By and large, the 48 acre farm was a safe place for the meanderings of a little boy. However, there was one critter that caused grown men to cry. They had invaded our country from the west and were inching their way across the south. It was the fire ant. Most of us today know about fire ants but forty years ago they were rather new to the South. These little industrious insects would build mounds that dotted the pasture and gave fair warning to the cattle and kids that they were not to be messed with. For me, the mounds were invitations to wreak havoc upon these demon-possessed creatures. A long stick jammed into the heart of mound as if slaying a dragon brought ants streaming out in search of the invader. A few seconds of delight and off I’d be in search of the next beacon of terror.
One day I was fishing. Concentrating on the fine art of casting my purple worm, I hadn’t noticed that uninvited guests had arrived. It seems that fire ants have a way to subdue even the largest of their enemies. They, by the hundreds, will cover their victims and then, with a single signal from their blood thirsty leader, chomp down all at the same time. And they did. There is a very practical reason they are called fire ants. Fire literally began with my toes and seared its way up my legs to my knees. My screams offered no relief and I couldn’t wipe the beasts off fast enough so I decided to fight fire with water so with one great leap, I was in the pond. The damage was done though. I came out of the water and found my legs covered in dime-sized whelps. First there was pain, then itching and then for the rest of my life the memory and the hatred, no loathing, of those mean, deceitful, terrorizing, murderous, acidic, vile enemies of all that is right and good in the world.
Like the fire ant mounds that dot the pasture, it is sometimes easy to spot our enemies. They are the murderers, the rapists, and the terrorists that riddle our newspapers every day. They are easy to hate and we do, because forgiving them of such heinous behavior is crazy. Besides, it’s hard work to forgive. By in large they are faceless individuals or groups that we will never know personally so it is easier to relegate them to the hate column and save our forgiving for others. But even then, it becomes difficult. There are those folks that are closer to home that are our enemies. Maybe enemy is too strong for some of them. They just plain get under our skin. They are co-workers, in-laws, neighbors, and others that seem to take some bit of delight in making our lives miserable. They, like the ants, make their way into our space and then “chomp”. Damage is done. Forgiveness? We forgave them last week and the week before. That’s plenty, don’t you think?
Maybe those misguided words from a brother or spouse should not even be mentioned. It’s easier to overlook and forget, or at least try and forget, than it is to forgive. After all, why open the proverbial can of worms. We have a lifetime to live together and, well, it’s just easier.
Of course we know what Jesus said. Forgive seventy times seventy. Forgive as we are forgiven. Forgive, they don’t know what they are doing. All that stuff. It is stuff that takes hard work, tenacity, intentionality, patience, and love. Oh yeah, “love”, as in “love your enemies.”
Surely He didn’t mean the fire ants.
