The Canadian geese near my home are moulting. I know because the paths are covered with feathers and goose poop. In the past, I have harvested these feathers, carrying grocery store bags to bring home quills which would be filled with the insides of Bic pens for Colonial Day, or even experimented with to make quills that could write with real ink (not as easy as it looks). As my kids got older, some feathers became paint brushes for interesting effects. But today I have no such projects, and the feathers can be left for other moms with younger kids. Or to decompose as they eventually will.
Today what caught my attention was the timing of the moult. The geese all have babies who are not yet old enough to fly. And here comes the hand of God, making it impossible for them to escape danger by flying away. They are forced to use the same strategies that are available to their children, running for the water. True, they have another defence--the parents can turn on the attackers, and several geese hissed at me while I passed too close to their little ones. But for this season they cannot take to the air to get away from it all. This surely helps the survival rate of baby geese, who do indeed face many hazards in their trip to adulthood.
So in my life, when God "clips my wings" is it to keep me tuned to the things that matter? Might I do well to ask God to treat me like the geese in some ways?
Ecclesiastes 3:1 "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven."
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