There used to be a pair of white geese at Lake Sacajawea. One of the geese had funky wings. I’m not sure if the goose had been in some kind of an accident or what, but several feathers on each wing went the wrong way. The goose didn’t seem to mind, though I am told it was known to attack small children, so maybe it did mind…
A few months ago, I noticed the funky-winged goose was missing. The first time or two when I saw just one white goose, I didn’t think much of it. I thought the other goose must be around somewhere. But eventually I realized that the funky-winged goose was… no longer with us. And I felt bad for the other goose, now all alone.
But the other goose is no longer singing, “O Solo Mio.” In fact, the other goose has a whole new family. Mother Goose, as I now call her, seems to have adopted a brood of ducklings. Not only that, but she seems to be co-parenting with a mother duck. Now, I’m no water fowl expert, but the number of ducklings seem to out number the number of ducklings any one duck would have. Which leads to me to believe that Mother Duck had her own babies, then some other babies became orphaned (I try not to think about the particulars of how that might have happened) and Mother Goose adopted them and somehow Mothers Duck and Goose joined forces.
Sometimes nature has a way of reminding what it means to be humane. It doesn’t matter to the ducklings that Mother Goose is indeed a goose and not a duck, much less their mother. Doesn’t matter to Mother Goose that the ducklings are not her babies. And Mother Duck doesn’t mind hanging out with someone else’s babies and a goose. They’re just all one big happy family regardless of the differences that might otherwise keep them apart. Isn’t that what family is about? Isn’t that what church is about?