I was driving to work this morning. I was near our friendly neighborhood nuclear power plant (seriously) and something caught my eye: a nervous little squirrel. He was trying to get from one side of the road to the other. (So…why did the squirrel cross the road?) He looked frightened, totally emaciated and a little mangy. Nuclear squirrel frantically dodged in front of me and I swerved to barely miss him. It was like a spastic squirrel version of the old arcade game Frogger. He was desperately trying to cross the busy street. I watched, in my rear view mirror, as he made a final sprint for freedom when, SUDDENLY, his little squirrel dreams were crushed by the fast-moving blue Minivan right behind me . Yes, sadly, the poor little guy didn’t quite make it. He became just another roadkill statistic. Let’s take a moment of silence to remember this ill-fated, little squirrel….
Ahem, okay.
In contrast to this sad squirrelly story, recently I was driving past a lovely little man made pond. I saw brake lights and noticed that several cars were stopped in front of me. I was ticked because I really didn’t have time for this, and why were we stopping anyway!?
I finally got close enough to see what the holdup was, there was a family of carefree ducks crossing the street. It seemed as if they were moving in slow motion. Then one of the ducks stopped and started cleaning herself right there in the middle of the road. We sat there for five minutes. We were all honking and yelling at the duck. One guy even got out of his car and tried to shoo the duck out of the way. But she ignored us all, and finally, when she was ready, she moved to the other side of the road with her family.
Now, I’m thinking about the squirrel and the duck and the difference between the two. The big difference was a big sign next to the pond. It was a reflective, yellow, triangular sign with the silhouettes of a mama duck and two baby ducks. This was a designated duck crossing. A way had been made for the ducks to safely cross the road—and they knew it. They were protected by an outside source. They could take their time, and nobody could touch them.
But there was no sign or squirrel crossing for my little furry friend. He was totally on his own—and he knew it. He had no protection and therefore no future.
I realized that many times in my life I’ve felt like the spastic little squirrel. Life can move pretty fast and I can frantically run from one situation or problem to the next. I move as fast as I can hoping that I don’t become roadkill. But it doesn’t have to be like that. As a friend of God, I’m promised protection from an outside source. I know God has made a way for me. I can be confident and trust Him. No matter what danger is zooming around me, I can know he’s made it possible for me to cross over to the other side. The times I feel boxed in, when it seems like there’s no way out, I just need to act like a duck instead of a squirrel. I can move in the knowledge that God has prepared a way for me to make it. I can just slow down and enjoy the scenery as I cross the street.
carbonated joy 