A Sunday stroll

By the streams the birds of the air have their habitation; they sing among the branches.

(Psalm 104: 12 NRSV)

It was early on a spring Sunday afternoon. I stopped at a red light on my way home after church. As I sat there, waiting, I realized that beyond the red light, and beyond the cars that were already stopped on the other side of the light, there was a gap in the line of oncoming traffic. Cars farther up the road had come to a dead halt, for no reason that I could see. I could see nothing in the roadway, but something clearly was going on.

The light changed and I moved forward. Still the line of cars remained, unmoving. Puzzled, I looked around, and finally found another clue. A young woman, dressed in the uniform of a nearby fast-food restaurant, was standing by the side of the road, waving her arms as if herding cats.

As I drew alongside the gap in the traffic, I finally realized what the holdup was all about. I stopped, too.

Canada geese, out for a Sunday afternoon stroll.

There was a pair of adult geese, who (I have since learned) mate for life, one in the lead and the other bringing up the rear, their distinctive markings clear in the bright sun. Between them were the kids: seven, count them, seven gangly teenager goslings, all brownish and fluffy with down, moving at their own stately pace, smack in the middle of the lane of traffic.

The sight of the little family made me smile, then laugh out loud. I wondered how foolish I must look to the other humans around me, then just as quickly decided I didn’t care. The goose family made me happy.

And then I thought about the human family all around me and was amazed.

Not one driver in that long line of cars (and many of them, I’m sure, could not see the little pageant that was playing out), not one honked a horn, tried to pass or displayed any hint of impatience. Everyone who could see seemed content to let the geese set the pace. Those who couldn’t see the parade were aware that there was magic in the air.

I smiled again as the restaurant girl threw up her hands and turned to go back inside. I watched carefully as the geese passed my car, the adult geese doing their strange bob of the head with each step, and the youngsters stretching their necks to see the sights of town.

I knew where the water lay, and it was just off my side of the road. I fully expected them to cross the road in front of me as they drew abreast of the little fresh water pond, but they stayed the course, walking down the eastbound lane as if they owned it, papa leading the way (I assume it was papa – who can tell?), young ones gawking and clumping, and mama worrying and giving advice from behind.

It had never occurred to me before to give thanks to God for geese (you know me and my fear of birds), but on that day, I whispered a prayer of thanks for all families – those with feathers and down, and for the human family who, with grace and goodwill, allowed the goose family to enjoy a Sabbath stroll.

God’s in His heaven; all’s right with the world!