I love ducks. They are hysterical to me. I find full delight in their ever-changing mood swings. And I love to watch them float.
QUACK! QUACK! QUACK! (they bicker and bite)
FLOAT! FLOAT! FLOAT! (they glide n' zen.)
I LOVE how it feels to sit on an innertube and float. Down a river. Down a water slide. I find that floating down something is one of the most physiologically soothing sensations this world has to offer. And I’m so damn jealous of ducks for the fancy-fact they get this constant luxury.
Recently, I was on a walk by a nearby creek. I watched a duck as it wrestled against the current to get to where it wanted, then the current would pull the duck downstream. The duck navigated the waters with enough strength to get to where she wanted to go and yet she also knew when to give way to the current and float. It was beautiful. The strength to push when necessary and the strength to give when necessary.
A few minutes later in my walk I saw a monarch butterfly flap its wings and dance around me. I put my arm out several times hoping it would land on my arm - giggling in anticipation. It didn’t. But what if it had? (I mean, right?)
But then I watched the butterfly do the EXACT SAME THING as the duck. The butterfly exhibited just enough strength to flutter around from spot to spot but that beautiful little butterfly also knew exactly when to give way to the wind and be caught up in a beautiful moment of soaring.
I realized in that moment that God is completely capable of creating a rushing river that could envelop me to the depths of the earth or create a mighty wind so strong it would blow me to dust. But God doesn't.
I have just enough God in me to navigate the universe. I have just enough strength to get to where I want or need to be. I'm good at this. The part of controlling and getting things to go the way I want (to a fault, right?). But sometimes, lots of times, I don't also have the strength to let go. Let go into his mystery.
I'm ever-so-slooooowly, learning what it looks and feels like to let go and enjoy the ride.
It looks like this: being present, sitting still, observing instead of speaking, laughing instead of getting bitter, seeking rest, taking it one day at a time, trusting in what I hope for but cannot see.
It feels like this: freeing, lovely, joy-filled, hopeful. You guys, it feels... beautiful.
So, today... May we trust in a God who gives sufficient grace and strength to navigate the waters and winds of this life.
And may we never forget to give ourselves permission to let go and get taken away by the God guiding, dancing, leading and consuming us - not with a mighty arm but with a steady current and a graceful wind.