The With-Me God: Learning from the Ducks

They were small, palm-sized. They huddled together in the murky water, jostling each other. One would give a small peep and the others quickly formed a line behind him. They would travel a few feet, only to dissolve back to the huddle and push someone else to the front. Already this was not my usual routine—my infant son had woken before dawn and so I plopped him in the stroller to join me—and now I paused on my run to watch the unfolding drama. I felt my heart squeeze with concern for these little lost ducklings.

My perspective changed. For those few moments, I saw the world from a duckling’s viewpoint. This man-made pond became a huge and confusing expanse of water. This little bridge became a soaring fortress that blocked their direction.  I saw their fear, their uncertainty, and their limited defenses. I saw their desire for someone, anyone to show them the way. Minutes went by and still I looked. I was caught up in this little tragedy, and I wanted resolution, as if I was standing with lost children at a mall waiting for their mother to realize they were missing and rush back to them. Where was she? Couldn’t she hear their cries? They were far too small to be on their own. Had something happened? They seemed so alone!

I wondered then if a sound reached the ducklings that my human ears couldn’t discern. They set off with resolute purpose, swimming under the footbridge and heading across the lake. As they crossed the middle of the lake, something snapped beneath the surface of the water and they let out a series of cries. Their fear propelled them and they quickened their pace, feathers rustling, hopeful for flight but achieving only a hover. They maintained their direction, reformed their line and glided to the shore, buttill no mother. I waited, straining my eyes at the underbrush. Nothing. I had followed these ducklings for several minutes and I reluctantly turned away. This drama would not end as I wished. No happy reunion would I see today, but I carried the moments home with me, wondering.

Later, I knelt beside my older son, which brought me right to his level. I looked at the world through his eyes. The world seemed large, unfriendly—difficult to navigate. My heart was pierced with conviction, as I saw my selfish and skewed perspective before me. It had been too long since I kneeled with him. I had failed to recognize how life must feel at his size, and how desperate he must be for guidance, for security, for unshakeable love. Without it, he spins and bumbles and looks for anyone to lead, for he too is lost. It was as if the burdens of day-to-day mothering had kinked the flow of love to my heart and with a rush it was free again. Those little ducks had unleashed a torrent of nurturing love in my soul, for I have been entrusted with my own lost ones to guide and comfort and lead.