Houses may be bought, built, or borrowed.

But homes can only be made, and that with bits of ourselves.

Or so the ducks told me.

They told me without a sound, just simply as they preened and nestled, a painting, oil on canvas. The children press in close too, for a better look at Alexander Max Koester’s painting Ducks, and I read aloud the caption below the brushes of color.

“Mother ducks pick feathers from their chests to line their nests.”

(Koester’s painting: Moulting Ducks)

I pause and the children gaze thoughtfully at a clutch of plump white, blizzard of feathers fallen down. But it’s those words that mesmerize me: “pick feathers from their chests, to line their nests.”Eyes fixed on a duck breast puffed, mother plunging beak in deep, I question wondering self: “How else did you think nests were lined?”

With leftovers. With feathers discarded, the molted, the not-so-necessary feathers. I thought mother ducks picked feathers up from what was laying about, scraps, lining nests with what simply could be mustered after the fact.

But no. (Is that only the way of human mothers?) No, a mother duck plucks each feather out from the heart of her bosom, warm and soft.


She lines the nest with bits of herself. The best of her, from the deep spots.

She cups her young in her sacrifice.

Children pull at the corner of the page, anxious to see the next painting, and, reluctantly, I move on. But for weeks, part of me lives among Koester’s ducks. (Koester, captivated, painted dozens of duck paintings throughout the course of his life. I’ve come to understand.)

Days later, I am scrubbing out the arches of muffin tins after breakfast, the clock ticking insufferably loud in my ears, time running down. Children need books and learning, and I’m tuned for the expected chime of the doorbell, a service personnel’s scheduled visit. And the words rise near to the surface, “I don’t have time for this! No muffins tomorrow morning!”

Pluck.

The words sharply sink. And I, learning, line this nest with a feather. Not a leftover. But one decidedly plucked. The service man meets me with muffin tins still in the sink, and a circle of happy young. Whose tummies next morning fill with another batch of muffins. I will make time.

As the sun’s perfect globe of glow sets nears the horizon, these boys, glint in eyes, recalibrate vacuum cleaner to fire socks. Weary, I have food to find, laundry awaiting escort, math sheets to mark.

They fire sock cannons.

And I Pluck.

Bellies jiggle, peals of giggles, as old mother chases after future men, wrestling them down, tying them up in tickles. We warm here in laughter. It feels good, wild and alive. So again they fire, and again I pluck with feathers of my time, bits of me, and we pile high, one atop the other, nesting down into sacrifice, soft and small.

Some feathers for this nest, the parts of me and time I have sacrificed, have hurt, pain of the plucking lingering long. But why speak of the details? And was it really sacrifice, or just this too-tender skin? It’s done, it was necessary, it was for something better. Some nights, when all sleep, I feel along the hidden bald patches.

There are times, too many, when they call, “Read me a story?” “Wanna play a game with me?” “Can you come help me?”

And this mother refuses to pluck. Something, some task, someone (me?), rates as more pressing, more important. I deem our nest acceptable just as it is. I don’t want to sacrifice more of me.

Then comes the pecking, the scratching, the squawking. With feather lining wearing thin, the nest chafes hard. We hurt and cry. Nests need feathers deep.

Someone must pluck.

When will I learn that down sacrificed settles and soothes?

For scraps won’t suffice. Snippets of time, leftover me, a trinket, a diversion, tossed.

Mother ducks don’t line nests with feathers, dirty and trampled, the molted and unnecessary. Why would I? Nests need feathers fresh, warm with mother’s life.

Night descends and calls children to dreams. I lead them to their bed-gate, arms and legs under quilts worn from the ride. I read stories, stroke hair, say prayers. Prayers to Him who plucked hard from His own heart.

A sacrifice, staggering and true, for love of His very own. We learn love from His laid down.

Tired heads nestle into pillows, pillows of down.

On feathers plucked, we rest.

Lord, help me today to pluck, to lay down my life for others. Like You did.

You can read more of Ann’s inspirational writing at A Holy Experience.

Posted August 21, 2008 at A Holy Experience as a repost from Christian Women Online archives.

The original Koester painting, “Moulting Ducks,” is part of the collection at the Frye Art Museum in Seattle.

The events of the past day have not only been heart wrenching, but have also provided a reminder of just how precious and fleeting life is. How easily we forget. I don’t believe that we all have some sort of invincibility mindset, so much as we just fall into routines, become somewhat complacent, and don’t really consider the fragility of life.

Many of us will go on to live very long lives, in human terms. Yet others will pass from this world much sooner. However, it’s not for us to know. God never promises any of us tomorrow. Not even our next breath. Yet we so often live as if we have all the time in the world.

Whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away. James 4:14

Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow. Psalm 144:4

I pray that each of us would just slow down and be a bit more intentional and aware. Enough to appreciate the life you have right here and now. Enough to appreciate the people God has placed in your life at this time. Enough to enjoy the little things.

This is the day which the Lord has made, we will rejoice and be glad in it.  Psalm 118:24

Every day I will bless You, and I will praise Your name forever and ever. Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised. Psalm 145:2-3

Christ’s love is like torrential waters. His grace is like a swelling tide. Who can approach the height and depth, length and breadth of the love of God? It passeth understanding; it is beyond our comprehension, but from it comes that life-giving stream from which you and I find refreshment. God’s Word, too, is like a great torrent. The depths of its mysteries will never be fathomed, the height of its glory never attained, the vastness of its wonders never discovered. It is a mine never to be exhausted, a spring never to run dry. It is the unsearchable riches of His grace but, whilst it remains beyond all human comprehension, we thank God for the still waters of that Word to which we have been led and of which we have partaken, and we shall anticipate the day when we shall be able to eat of the hidden manna and drink of the fountain head.

~ Charles W. Slemming in He Restoreth My Soul

Heavenly Father, may we delve ever deeper into Your word and Your love. Immerse us, consume us, and overflow our lives with more of You.

“And if it seems evil to you to serve the Lord, choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods which your fathers served that were on the other side of the River, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land you dwell. But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” Jeremiah 24:15

Will you choose faith and trust in God? Or will you follow your feelings – fickle and undependable?

Will you abide and grow in grace? Or will you attempt to control your spiritual growth?

Will you choose to listen to God and His Word? Or will you allow the extraneous cacophony to lead you astray and confuse you?

Will you choose joy and shut the door on discouragement, doubt, and despair? Or will you leave the door open, just a crack, allowing the enemy to gain a foothold?

Will you allow God to carry your burdens? Or will you continue in vain attempts to handle them on your own?

Will you follow God with wholehearted abandon? Or will you “what if?” and “suppose…” your way off His path?

Will you choose God? Remember that He chose you.

“But we are bound to give thanks to God always for you, brethren beloved by the Lord, because God from the beginning chose you for salvation through sanctification by the Spirit and belief in the truth.” 2 Thessalonians 2:13

What do you do if you’re hungry? Do you just wait for some food to come to you? Do you hope that maybe something tasty will drop into your lap? If you’re like most people, probably not. You’d likely get up and seek out something. But it’s doubtful that you’ll walk into the kitchen and find a complete meal on the counter, ready to eat. You may have to forage around, looking in the cupboards, the refrigerator, or the freezer, as you locate the ingredients for a decent lunch.

What if you’re missing a crucial component of your meal? I can’t imagine that you’d just expect that food to show up at your front door. You might even make a quick trip to the store to pick up whatever you need.

So now what do you do, once everything is together? Wave a magic wand over the items? Stare at them, waiting for them to spontaneously transform into a delicious dish? Hardly. You’d probably start pulling out the appropriate tools – pans, bowls, utensils, and maybe a recipe – and prepare your meal.

What about your spiritual hunger? Do you just wait for God to drop something good into your life? Do you pull out a devotional and read a couple of paragraphs, expecting to be fulfilled? Do you have a regular schedule for feeding your spirit? Or do you just pop in for a few moments with the Lord, akin to grabbing a cereal bar, as you head out on your way?

If we are going to feed our souls in a way that satisfies, equips, and matures us, we have to put forth effort. We have to pull out the tool (His word) He’s given us.  We have to give of our time. There is no substitute when it comes to our relationship with God. We can’t know His direction in our lives if we don’t know Him. We can’t know Him unless we spend time with Him and in His word – both quantity and quality matter.

Regardless of how busy your life is, you need the nourishment of time spent before the Lord – in His word and in prayer. If you’re not spending regular time with Him, block out some time each day. Whether it’s the same time every day, or it varies based upon your schedule, make your time with Him a priority. Only then will you be filled and satisfied spiritually.

Hebrews 12:1 “…let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.”

What does the “sin which so easily ensnares us” look like to you personally? Is it sitting there on the side of the road in the race of life, looking stinky, smelly, and disgusting? I mean sin really is gross. When I think about how completely revolting sin is in our lives as believers, I picture something from a very disgusting dump with flies buzzing all around it. It most certainly smells and looks terrible.

Yet, if sin appeared as detestable as it truly is, we’d all be able to avoid it completely. But sin ensnares us. That means it captures or entangles us as we’re caught unaware. And it happens easily. It must look a lot better than the aforementioned pile of filth. In fact, it must appear quite enticing.

I believe we need to ask God’s help to give us SUPER-vision, x-ray eyes, if you will, to see through the outer trappings of this ensnaring sin. As we run this race called life, we need the ability to see these obstacles for what they really are. While they may be quite lovely in appearance, as they draw us away from our focus (Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith), they’re deadly as a boa constrictor that wraps around us and squeezes out the life. But if we will diligently seek after the Lord in His word and in prayer, He will provide us with the SUPER-vision needed to see beyond the façade and discern the truth.

Sin is ugly. It’s abhorrent. Our enemy is well aware of this. That’s precisely why he adorns it in a way that would attract and allure us. But Jesus has already defeated Satan. We do not have to live in bondage to his tricks and deception. We need to move beyond the place of feeling that we’ll be trapped in this for the rest of our lives, deeming our flesh weak, and falling into hopelessness.

Yes, God left a thorn in the flesh with the Apostle Paul, though he prayed fervently for it to be removed. But nowhere in Scripture does the Lord say that we have to live with habitual sin. Nowhere does he say that we have to remain in bondage to it. Jesus died on the cross to pay the price for my sin and yours. Throughout the New Testament, we are offered hope and freedom!

Romans 6:18 “And having been set free from sin, you became slaves of righteousness.”

Romans 6:22 “But now having been set free from sin and having become slaves of God, you have fruit to holiness, and the end, everlasting life.”