Getting my ducks in a row

I have been saying for a few weeks that I need to get my ducks in a row before a rather hectically scheduled summer—I’ll be out of the office during the week the next two weeks, but here on Sunday and available via phone, text and e-mail—and now we have a duck at the church.  Perhaps many ducks, or many future ducks. Odin, Amber’s dog, discovered our new resident on Monday as he roamed through the high grass on the patio. The duck (who I’ve named Miranda CAN WE KEEP HER, MARTHA, PLEASE) flew off, but we saw her again later that day. When I finish writing this, I’m going to check to see if she’s still there and throw her some bread. I hope we can extend our hospitality and care of creation to our new tenant, who is probably just a visitor but welcome all the same. 

But I digress a bit.  Needing to get my ducks in a row and then discovering an actual duck made me wonder if it was a prayer answered.  Please don’t get me wrong—I do not think God has a weird genie-like need to answer prayers in the most literal and ironic way possible, nor do I think God does so.  But as someone who loves to hustle and bustle and get busy and fume about his to-do lists, having the chance to go out and seek a duck with some bread might be a good breather. It might help me re-center, re-prioritize and re-align; it might help me focus on the important things and not worry so much on the small things. Unless they’re very small.  And yellow. And fuzzy. (Apparently I really like ducks.  Who knew?) 

This week, as we continue looking at the book of Acts, we’re coming to the tenth chapter, which is easily in the top ten most important stories for church. In it, Peter—the stuttering fisherman who batted about .075 when discipling, receives a vision from God that helps him re-center, re-prioritize, and re-align to the Gospel that keeps growing, sowing and going, even outside of what he expects, wants or believes to be containable. It kind of ties into what we talked about last week with the Ethiopian eunuch, and it also opens up a whole other can of worms.  So I hope to see you Sunday, and I hope you’ll come ready to kill and eat. 

But not Miranda. Bring the can of worms for Miranda.  (Do ducks eat worms?) 

Shalom, Arthur