Coming out of our small neighborhood there is a small lake which is more like a puddle but for the story we will call it a lake. I usually drive past without a second thought but today there was a duck right in the middle of the road, screeching to a halt I watched as 7 little ducklings hopped onto the road and started towards their mother. The first six ducklings followed in a direct line, silently and evenly spaced out but that last duckling walked clumsily, swaying to each side, making a ruckess and varying his speed.
Halfway to his mother the last duckling stopped and his mother waddled over and pressed her face against the small ducks nudging him to get up. Slowly the duckling stood up wobbling and began to walk next to his strong mother, she helped him across the street and I even think I saw her clap but maybe that's just my imagination...
Driving across the street I realized that I was that small duckling, the little one, the misfit, the one who struggles, the one so in need of something larger then myself. The one who is in need of a God who by some miracle is always standing next to me, never changing, always helping and who never stopped believing in me even when I stopped believing in him. A God who never stopped loving.
