In the midst of Life

There is a busy road near my house that cuts through a wetland, and at 7 in the morning it is congested with me and all of my neighbors from the surrounding developments as we race from our homes to our workplaces. The posted speed is 50, which means that everyone goes about 65.

This morning I was in the left lane when the car in front of me came to an abrupt halt. I had to stand on my brakes to avoid hitting him - I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach as I heard the screeching brakes behind me and I waited for the impact. It never came, because thankfully the drivers behind me were alert. The car in front of me slowly started rolling forward, and I saw that he had come to a stop on top of a group of ducklings. The mother hopped up on the median and turned back to look at her brood. It was too dangerous for me to even think about staying stopped in the road, or getting out to check for survivors. I too rolled forward, over the crumpled bodies of her young.

It doesn't take a lot to change your entire perspective for the day. As I continued on to the babysitter I looked over my shoulder at my own 'duckling,' in his carseat, so helpless and at the mercy of his parents. I voiced a prayer of thanks that we were spared from an accident.

That hen led her ducklings into a slaughter because she could not understand the danger that she was walking them into. Thankfully for me there is a higher wisdom to lean on in my own life, and the undertakings that come with it. I just need to remind myself daily to lean on that wisdom, rather than my own understandings. I prayed for myself and my wife for more wisdom & foresight, so that our son might never have to bear the consequences of a lapse in our judgement in such a terrible fashion as those ducklings had.

It seems to be a little perverse to suggest that the deaths of those baby mallards achieved some sort of meaning because some fat white suburbanite who played an active role in their demise was reminded to put his trust in God. But then again, are there many things more perverse than a meaningless death?