We are ducks...

Ok...here I go. Blog. Now, until I watched the movie Julie and Julia did I even have a grasp of what a "blog" was. Blog to me was what kind of day you were having and telling your best friend about it with a tuna sandwich in your mouth. I've been told I should write. People laugh a lot when I talk. I love to talk. So, since I have never really considered myself a "writer", however I do have amazing typing skills. Your bored already...so sorry. Let's think about this.

Today I walked to the duck pond to feed the ducks. Last time I went there it was because my boyfriend (which I no longer have...ouch!) was fighting and I ran there to sit on the covered bridge and cry my eyes nearly out of their sockets. Gasped a prayer. I wonder does God laugh when we snot and blubber our prayers? That was nearly two weeks ago. Today I feel like it is better. Like I had a tumor, it was a heavy one that was attached to my chest and I had it cut of with a machete. Yeah, it's healing...but sore. Not itching like a sore does when it heals, no no no, it would bleed like crazy if I scratched it. Sore, like I smother it in salve and put nice fabric bandages on it so that it is protected. That and I haven't talked to him in three days. Yep...I still cry about it. He got me. He understood my love for moss and plants and didn't make me feel weird about it. He had good in him, but he is still and ex-boyfriend, and it's still easier to think of all the things I cant stand about him at this point.

Simply put, I love feeding ducks.

I watch them and they make me think. Quit laughing, no I'm not 70 and have a pigeon feeding fetish too! Here they are, it's freaking cold out and the snow up over my snow boots, and they won't come out of the water to eat my bread. I wave it in the air...they stare at me. I tell them what it is...still, stares. O.k you dumb ducks here you go! I toss a handful of crumbled up bread in the water. "AWWWW! She has bread! Hurry!" (That's what they said ; ) Well, what did they think I had? There I stood with my bag! After a few bites I'm cool and they love me and they gather around me and eat all I have to offer. Nice. I remind them that they are crazy birds and that they can trust me not to eat them ever. Not even the blind goose...he just lays there. I lay bread right beside him and he just stares off. He can't see me, but he knows I'm there. He must hear the others shouting about how my bread was so great and not nearly as stale as some that they have had this week. He is the only one that isn't afraid of me. I like him most. Well, I like him a lot anyway.

We are so much like ducks.

We are...really...let me explain:

Unless we see it, we don't believe it. Till they tasted the bread, they didn't believe that it was bread in my bag. Then they come running, like we do. Bread is like God's love. It's right there. So much of it, and we just sit in the water and wait for it to be thrown to us.

Some ducks fight over it. Some ducks are mean and bossy and take bread from other ducks. Their hogs. Like us. Think on this. So here is mean duck. He runs the pond and all the ducks are afraid of him. He is a bad bad duck. Did I want to pull all his feathers out and leave him to die a terrible death on the ice? NO! I just wanted him to say he was sorry and be good. To share. That's how God is. When we are "bad ducks" he doesn't want to hurt us, torture us...he just wants us to repent and try to be good. He knows you are going to screw up. He loves us anyway. When we know better and we are still bad, I'm sure he gets frustrated...but there is always a chance to change.

Then there's the ducks that are off in the distance. They never truly trust. Just hang out in the back while the hog eats all the bread and they probably wish someone would pluck him and toss him to the side, but they end up hungry. So many of us are like that. We don't really try to get out there...we get used to be hungry. God wants to bless us all with all he can, he has loaves for us, not just crumbs.

So, as I walked away I had this thought:

If one of those ducks decided to follow after me, I would be so excited! My daughter would have an absolute fit and tell me no pet ducks, just like the no pet ferret! But if one followed me home, I would give it bread, corn, it could sleep on my porch...heck, I would even get it a pet duck bed!

Now, that's God's love for us. He wants us to follow him. Follow him and he will give you all you could ever imagine. Do you think that the ducks at that pond could ever imagine having all they could ever dream of? Yeah, well we don't either a lot of the time.

Seems pretty simple. Be good ducks. Follow after God. Get good bread.

There, my first blog. ; )