Several years ago, Doug and I were at a self-catering
holiday place on Loch Lomond with some others. One morning we noticed the
mother duck had a queue of ducklings parading behind her. The next morning we
noticed that one duckling was missing. Each subsequent morning, another
duckling had disappeared. Finally, we could no longer identify the mother duck,
because she looked like all the other ducks. No babies.
My ducklings don’t queue up behind me anymore. Actually, I don’t
think they ever did! The rebel in them resisted such precision. The chaotic in
me welcomed running and jumping, within reason...
I’ve got a duckling in Australia at the moment. Two in
California. One in Scotland. Quack as I might, they’ll never hear me.
But in my heart and mind, they’re always near. They may not
be queueing up behind me, but then they never did. In my memory, they still run
and jump, sometimes rebelliously, sometimes joyfully chaotically, within
earshot. I pray that where they are, right now, they are still running and
jumping joyfully.
Can a mother forget the baby she bore? God asks rhetorically
in the Bible. Even if she can, God continues, he is not the sort of father who
ever forgets his children. Ever. No matter how near, nor how far.
I suppose there are moments when I’m not thinking of one or
another of my children. But not many.
Praise God for e-mail. And that I can trust Him to hold them
in the palm of his hand, far more securely than I ever could.
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