I know. It’s been a while. A long season.
You know that season, when sudden plot twists leave you feeling run over, bleeding in a ditch, not sure how you’ll ever get out or if you even want to?
But I discovered sometimes while you’re pleading with God for help, He sends someone for you to nurture instead, so their unfolding story can inject hope back into your own.
Case in point…
One very grief-laden morning several years ago, with coffee refill in hand, as I walked past the stair window, out the corner of my eye I saw Blitzen the Christmas barn-kitty (he appeared in our dog-less dog house the previous Christmas so I surmised him a gift from Santa) playing on the back deck tossing something in the air. As I turned to climb the stairs the words “BABY DUCK!” registered in my weary mind. Coffee spilled, I rushed outside grabbing the tiny limp ball of fluff, fearing the worst. Then it blinked!
Back in the house I wrapped it in a small towel, whispered a prayer, laying the bundle in my lap in the sun to rest and warm. Two hours later it shook out of the towel, took three steps backward, pooped, then moved to a clean spot and sat down chattering away three beep-peeps on repeat that sounded like “Bitty-Beep”, thus declaring its name.
I set up a home for it in the warm kitchen in a black rubber feed tub with a heat lamp clamped to the side. I placed a bowl of baby chick feed, a clump of grass with dirt from the yard, plus a shallow dish of drinking water tiny-wading pool in the bottom.
That’s how I became momma to an adorable fluffy distraction from my pain, with a new daily routine, “Beep” sunning in my lap through sunrise reading-writing time, mid-morning bath in the sink, then walkabout outside trailing me every step of the way, finishing nuzzled in Hubby’s beard through evening TV until bedtime back in the tub. Until it grew big enough to jump out. Time to move outside.
“It is not good for a duck to be alone,” so says the Good Book (or something like that : ) so I found five same aged baby Indian Runner Ducks for sale online, forming a six duck pod of funny creatures I soon named “The Doodles.”
Baby down shed revealed Bitty-Beep was a lady mallard, while the Runners quickly grew twice her size, stumbling over the top her in their rush to the creek each morning causing Beep to waddle with a limp. My heart ached in new ways for how hard she tried to keep up.
But then came the day of our annual tree limb bon fire, the burst of flames scaring Beep so bad she discovered her wings could fly! Rather than running her little Mallard swimmer legs lame trying to keep up with her enormous earth-bound mates, her fear launched her to heights from which she could finally see her own kind happily floating on a pond nearly and she moved on to life on the pond with new friends.
Months later she reappeared, flying low circles over the yard quacking hellos, proof she’s enjoying her new life with those hidden nearby all along.
Five Runner Doodles remained, hilarious in their loud rebuttals as I herded them single file to the safety of their pen each night. But real life happened. A coyote here. Broken foot there. And recently, “Hooty” the Great Horned Owl left nothing but a circle of feathers where two sleeping ducks had been.
Now only one remains: Daisy-Doodle, final duck standing. Or running as the case may be. I thought she’d be so lonely I’d need to give her away but then I discovered a curious thing. Daisy needed someone to “talk” to and decided that someone was me. Surprise!
She calls me when she wants me to come sit for a spell, I meet her to sit at the well, and oh, the stories she tells!
And she has made friends with Annie the little black hen. Following her, head low, soft chattering, playing small so they can be friends. Annie tolerates, not reciprocates.
I placed a blue plastic kiddy pool by the well. We visit while she swims. At night she sleeps with Annie nearby.
We’ve all found a new normal with those who remain.
So whether you’ve been left standing without what you thought would remain or you’re called to fly higher to discover your tribe is waiting elsewhere, remember nothing is wasted in God’s economy. Shedding of what was makes room for what is yet to come. Sometimes it takes shedding what we thought would be permanent to find out who we were meant to become.
Remember:
- Friends can be found in unexpected places.
- Pain can lead to surprising joy.
- Everything changes.
- An entirely new life may be just around the corner.
- Shedding can reveal beautiful things.
- New beginning can be hidden in plain sight.
There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every matter under heaven—
A time to give birth and a time to die;
A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.
A time to kill and a time to heal;
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to weep and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn and a time to dance.
A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing.
A time to search and a time to give up as lost;
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear apart and a time to sew together;
A time to be silent and a time to speak.
A time to love and a time to hate;
A time for war and a time for peace.What benefit is there for the worker from that in which he labors? I have seen the task which God has given the sons of mankind with which to [a]occupy themselves.
Ecclesiates 3:1-8 NASB
Amen.
