The days felt endless. Nights sleepless. I was dragging through every task—breakfast, dishes, laundry—like I was moving through mud. We tried to keep a tidy home, but everything felt off. An infestation of ants had come for a visit and hadn’t left. We’d tried everything: soap, traps, even poison (not my norm). Nothing worked. They even found us in the night to bite us. My feet plodded to the destinations I needed to be. Breakfast, dishes, laundry. Yawn.

Nothing felt cheery or alive anymore.

I stood at the kitchen sink, scrubbing and sulking. The kids were doing schoolwork at the table while I wondered, What has gotten into me? Nap time, still hours away. In my exhaustion I whispered, “Lord, send help!”

Then our son Jesse and his wife Lauren stopped by on their way to the beach. Hugs all around. Exactly what I needed.

“Oh, Mom,” Jesse said, “those aren’t sugar ants. Those are fire ants.”

Lauren nodded. “They bite.”

“Tell me about it.” My tiredness quickly turned to spite toward my tiny new enemies.

They hugged us again and were off.

My attention honed in to the culprit that was stealing my joy. “God, Please help me!”

Something rose up in me. Energy. Ideas to tackle it. I grabbed the diatomaceous earth powder I’d used before and decided to go all in.

Bethany emerged with a paint brush. Caleb cheered me on. I painted the white powder on every ant-infested surface:

• On the walls in lines they would not cross
• On every counter top
• Across the stove top and fridge door

Our prayerful and enthusiastic efforts brought an end to the ant problem. Something we’d casually come to accept—became intolerable. The ants would NOT cross the white powder. Caleb laughed as they tried to navigate the rectangles and squares I’d haphazardly drawn.

“It’s working,” he announced.

And it did. That was the last day the ants were a threat. Only a few confused stragglers remained, and one wave of the powdered brush sent them packing too. Every last one.

Does any of this sound familiar? That slow grind of chaos that wears you down until you can barely function? Why do we wait so long sometimes to take action?

Maybe we think:

• The problem isn’t that serious
• I’ve tried to fix it and couldn’t
• I’m too tired to think of a solution

God cares. He hears His children. He invites us to bring our frustrations and weariness straight to Him.

This little ant story has become a reminder for some bigger struggles I’m facing right now. Why suffer needlessly when I can lift them to the Father who listens? In life’s craziness, I should ask, Have I consulted the Lord?

That day I cried out to God—not on my knees in a long prayer, but right there in the middle of the mess: “Enough. Help!” He came to my rescue.

Emphasis on Him hearing my desperation. Not on me doing something amazing.

A few verses that comfort and guide me in such moments:

• “I cried out to God for help;… when I was in distress, I sought the Lord” (Psalm 77:1-2 NIV).
• “The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart…” (Psalm 34:17-18 NKJV).
• “Hear my cry, O God; attend to my prayer. From the end of the earth I will cry to You, when my heart is overwhelmed; lead me to the rock that is higher than I” (Psalm 61:1-2 NKJV).

Do you have an area of irritation that’s dragging you down? Is it a God-given trial to sharpen you, like Paul in 2 Corinthians 12:7b-10? Or is it something to ask Him to get rid of, like Jesus taught about in Mark 11:23?

Either way—don’t wait. Take it to Him. It can only lighten your load. Then write to tell me, so I can be encouraged too!

For those who seek Him,

Melinda Poling