Quacky

Saturday, I spent a peaceful afternoon in DeFuniak Springs, Florida. Once my mom and dad got on the road with the kids, I met two dear friends for lunch. Keith and Vicki Andrews. I wish I could tell you, or could have expressed to them, how much it helped to be with them a while. They're just... well... wonderful. And when I left them I felt peaceful and in my heart felt ready to tackle these two weeks alone. Their company and conversation just set an easy pace for my "vacation at home." Plus, while I was with them I enjoyed a fried green tomato sandwich. Why would anyone live anywhere but the south when we have such inexplicable pleasures as fried green tomato sandwiches?

Then I sat out over the springs for a while, in the gazebo. Taking deep breaths of fresh air and listening for God. As I was listening, I saw a duck. Not just any duck. A single mother. I suppose all ducks are single moms. I mean, I've never seen a daddy duck with a trail of little fuzzy peepers behind him. Then again, I'm no scientist, nor am I an animal lover, so what do I know? Still, I'm choosing to think she was single. She had five ducklings. I named her Daria.

Daria (don't you LOVE that name? It's not at all frumpy or overworked single mother sounding.) was working like nothing I've ever seen! Spring water, in case you haven't had the pleasure of seeing, is very clear and wonderful. So I could see with no problem Daria's webbed feet going nearly as fast as any boat propeller would, as she swam this way and that, trying to corral her brood. She worked and huffed (well, there wasn't actually audible huffing, but trust me...) her way out to the middle, and I must say she had an unruly bunch of ducklings. Finally, in exasperation, she put her beak in the air and swam away. As if to say "Fine, then." And what had once been a loosey-goosey (pardon the pun) group of kids was at once right behind her. Not in a little duckling line, but in a clump almost directly underneath her tail, almost as if they were an extension of her. Clearly, these kids knew they better swim to it, or else.

Poor Daria. No rest for the weary. As I watched her speedy little webbed feet swimming like nobody's business, and then her little ducklings clumped all up in her space, I felt her pain. Of course, I was listening this whole time for God. And He pointed out how much I was like my friend, Daria Duck. He pointed out all the paddling I'm doing, paddling double time it seems just to get through ordinary days. He pointed out the heavy weight of navigating life's pond for me and two ducklings all on our own, and how sometimes being needed so much feels like my ducklings are superglued to me. And He raised a question: "What do you think that duck would be doing if she had no ducklings to corral?" I tried to picture her kicking back, relaxing, hanging out at the water's edge trying to pick up a guy duck. I imagined she might preen her feathers or wander around on the land for a while. But in the end, I had to admit that I've no idea at all what mother ducks do when they aren't laying eggs and mothering baby ducks. I couldn't imagine her going from all that frenzied activity to some kind of laid back ducky schedule, with nothing to do but sit around and soak her webby feet in the warm end of the pond. She's just not supposed to do that.

I felt as unnatural as Daria would have felt, had she suddenly been offered a duck-sitter or something. I suppose God wanted to get me thinking about how the next days will be strange and unfamiliar territory. I suppose He wanted me to admit that I'd have to let Him show me a thing or two about being a mother duck on hiatus.

Kinda quacky, huh? I know. So far I'm not doing that great. At letting Him show me, I mean. I've had some fun. Had a wonderful afternoon Sunday acting like a regular Queen of Sheba with nowhere to be, just whiling away hours in conversation with a friend who wasn't willing to let me wallow. Monday after work, I went shopping, which yielded some super-cute stuff and I APPRECIATED the quiet way I strolled around the store unnoticed and uninterrupted by squabbling, or trips to the potty. I didn't hurry. And on the way home I rented some movies. Something I almost never do for myself alone. I walked in Blockbuster and picked up stuff I wanted, with no care for whether it was appropriate for little ears and eyes. But truth be told, inside I've been slipping.

It's like I'm in the movie Twister. I don't really remember much about that movie, except the way the freakish tornadoes would just pick up everything. I feel like I'm holding on for dear life, trying not to get swept away into the swirling blackness. Blackness that I fear might be depression. I'm not sure whether to keep holding on, or to let go and give in to the storm and see where it carries me. I'm fighting the urge to retreat from the world. I find myself sitting at my desk at work wishing I could crawl under. I guess I'm scared that if I let a person know what it feels like inside me, they might get sucked into the storm too. Or worse, they might think what a baby I am and wonder why I can't just move on. I wonder that myself lots of times.

So, I'm here. I'm struggling. God's with me. That's the most wonderful, wonderful thing. He hasn't left for a single second. He isn't scared of my pain. He isn't the least bit squeamish. And He isn't freaked out. He told me that by sending Daria Duck. Sure, I might feel like my life right now is all wrong, totally against what nature intended for me. I might not have the slightest clue what I am without all my mother duck duties. I might be terrified of a million things.

But He hasn't even flinched yet. And He isn't embarrassed to be seen with a needy, unsure, duck-out-of-water like me, even if He has to speak duck to get through to me.

So now, where does one go to get webbed feet pedicures? I was thinking Daria might want to come along.