Ants on the Peonies

I was in my garden about a month and a half ago when I noticed that the peony buds were completely covered in some very industrious-looking ants. They seemed bent on destruction, and I do love peonies when they finally bloom- what an incredible flower! So much potential for beauty packed so tightly into an unassuming little bud. So I called up a green-thumbed friend and asked her what I should spray on the buds to get rid of the ants. "Oh, you don't want to do that," she replied. "If you get rid of the ants, your flowers will never bloom. They need the ants to help them open." An internet gardening site confirmed that the ants don't harm the buds, and actually eat the sticky, sugary syrup that the buds produce, which somehow helps produce large, healthy flowers. It struck me that this is not unlike our life right now. In the midst of a lawsuit against my husband, where lies have been spread about him in the paper and in the courtroom, when everyone in our community has an opinion, and when it often feels like we are being eaten alive emotionally, we are growing stronger. We have grown closer in our marriage, we spend more time together, he is more attentive to our children, our extended family is more tightly knit, and our true friends have rallied around us repeatedly to show their love and support. It is possible that we feel more loved now than we ever have before. It may look on the outside like we are being attacked and devoured; people often ask us, "Are you doing okay?" We are better than okay. The ants are doing their work; the superfluous is being eaten away, leaving only what is necessary and true. L.B. Cowman, in her timeless book Streams In The Desert, said, "You can see the rain, but can you also see the flowers? You are suffering through these tests, but know that God sees sweet flowers of faith springing up in your life beneath these very trials. You try to escape the pain, yet God sees tender compassion for other sufferers finding birth in your soul. Your heart winces at the pain of heavy grief, but God sees the sorrow deepening and enriching your life." Two years after the lawsuit began, after a three week trial and three days of jury deliberations, finally, the jury's decision came: my husband had done nothing wrong. He was fully exonerated, his name restored. I cheered with him on the phone, and when I hung up, I walked outside into the garden to take a deep breath. What I am about to tell you still makes tears come to my eyes: the peonies were all in bloom.