in the midst of an emotionally draining week, nature collided with rush hour on my drive home.
a mother duck darted off a median on to a busy street with several ducklings in tow. she ran into the middle of the first lane as the fluffy ducks crowded her. they moved, cautiously, almost as one being. the mother duck’s head looked left and right just as my eyes anxiously toggled between her and the car in front of me.
the light turned green and the traffic began to move. i didn’t want to abandon that brave mother who had led her babies into the mouth of danger. i wanted to tell her to turn back. cars seemed to pause, making a path for the unlikely travelers. i helplessly drove away from her, stealing glances in my rearview mirror until i lost sight of the little flock.
i worried about those little ducks all night. they boldly, and obediently followed their mother even when it seemed to be something insurmountable. they must have been afraid. but they clung to what they had and what they trusted.
despite what whizzes past me and obstructs my path, and despite my trepidation to move forward, i need to trust.
those little trusting ducks on their unknown journey made me think of other flocks and other protective wings:
fear not, little flock, the kingdom is yours until i come. behold, i come quickly (doctrine & covenants 35:27). how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings (matthew 23:37). the sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings (malachi 4:2).
i often tell christian that nothing better happen to him, because he is all that i have. it’s not a threat, it’s more of a plea. but i know i have much more than that.
you are all that i have, by snow patrol