A PAIR OF DUCKS- And how we find higher ground.

Photo by Christian Bowen on Unsplash

When we came off the mission field after ten years on the ranch, our debrief coaches handed us two plastic ducks. The kind you had in the bathtub as a kid. These “pair of ducks,” they explained, represented both the good and the bad of our experience on the field. There were parts we loved—launching a ministry, meeting a new culture and new people, freedom to dream. And parts we hated—unending demands, new rules we didn’t understand, less comforts.

But both were a part of it. Both the good and the bad. And both were a part of life.

A “pair of ducks”—A paradox. 

That’s what life is.

We run and hide. We fear. We question. We become angry with the system, angry at each other. And then we don’t. Then we find peace. And joy. And we rest in the blessings around us—the extra time with our kids. The new cadence and rhythm of our lives.

After the mission field, we lived in a 900 square foot house with seven people and one bathroom. In the frustrating craziness of that, we reminded ourselves that someday we would look back on that house with gratitude. We would see it as just what we needed in that moment—just the thing God knew we needed. And that the solitude would bring a measure of joy. A dose of healing. And a portion of rest. But it was hard to see when we were fighting for the bathroom or sleeping with the laundry spinning next to the bed. Or when we questioned why we were there and worried about what our future held.

So yes, a few years later, we see it much differently. But why couldn’t we see it then. Why couldn’t we see that house, the solitude shut away from the world for just a moment, as the haven it would become. Our chance to stop and breathe deeply for a while. Just a little while. To take it all in.

That’s how life rolls. That’s the paradox. That in the midst of the storm, there is something beautiful brewing. A new respect for one another. A new quietness in our souls. A new trust in our Lord.

And it’s not so much that we ignore the bad and focus on the good, but that in both, we find the higher ground. The greater purpose. We open our eyes to see the depth of both the shadows and the highlights. Because the full revelation requires both.

The question is, how will we look back on this moment? What will we see? And how can we find that now, not later?

The house on Cullen Street became a sanctuary when we bathed it in gratitude. When our shortcomings were laid bare before a good, good father. When we trusted all that He had for his children even when it looked scary and unpredictable. When we took a blind step, knowing He held us up. When we put on our spirit eyes and knew it went beyond what we thought we saw in front of us.

When we trusted. And allowed ourselves to grow and deepen with both pair of ducks in hand.