| After twelve hours or so of
practice, they have figured out that the front legs are not a
good bet. Mom’s tongue comes down from there to wipe their
butts, but food tubes don’t appear. Back legs are more promising,
but the two still have problems distinguishing between “legs,”
“hooves,” “udder,” and “teats.”
Several of my nieces were here in Nicaragua visiting in February
and from how they took to naming random rabbits and keeping an
eye out for any young babies who wandered away from their cages,
I imagine that they would probably enjoy helping these young gals
out. But our crew prefers to encourage independence. We have,
after all, about 10,000 other things to do besides helping kids
find their mother’s teats every half hour. So we try to
mostly stand back and watch, hoping to see the youngster lose
their “dundo”-ness as quickly as possible. Sometimes
I feel ready to cheer as one or the other gets its nose right
on target, the teat practically ready to fall into the kid’s
mouth. But then it stumbles, or the mother jerks, or the other
kid disturbs it with its own bumbling, and each kid starts all
over again, butting the leg, the hoof, the udder, everywhere except
the teat.
So far, all the other kids have learned these basic survival
skills, so I imagine things will get better before long. But the
experience did lead me to a theological reflection. In the Presbyterian
Church, we have a statement of faith that talks about God hiding
himself so that we have to search around for him. I’ve always
liked the image of searching for God, but this morning, it struck
me that although it seems like we really do have to search around
for our Creator, it may not be Her fault. As a Human Being, I
am often a little dundo. Our source of life and love
and growth is probably right in front of my nose. I butt up against
it, nearly get it into my heart and soul, but then I stumble or
jerk, getting just a taste before I have to start all over.
What I read in the Bible indicates that our Creator is gracious
and generous, and everywhere I have lived, I have seen instances
of that abundant generosity. As Sebastian mentioned in devotions
this morning, our kids born yesterday are one good example. I
don’t have to worry about there being enough of God to go
around, and I certainly don’t have to fight anybody to get
my head into heaven. If I am, as I feel, something like our two
new kids, what I have to do is decide that the Source exists,
that it’s worth getting a taste of and then learn to coordinate
my life so that I can get a firm grip.
All of this leads me to also ask myself if the United States’
war in Afghanistan and our current action in Iraq suggest that
as a nation we have a firm grip on what the Source of Life is
really about. My answer to that is “no,” although
I do think that we have some national leaders who need their butts
licked (so to speak).
But maybe I’m just kidding myself....
Wishing you many blessings in your own searchings (or bumblings),
Mark
P.S. #1 “Chaparra” in Nicaraguan Spanish means “Short.”
Would you like to hazard a guess about her relative size? Despite
her small stature, she is the six member herd’s dominant
goat, and she is more than willing to remind even the biggest
goats of that fact at the drop of a hair.
P.S. #2 “Mota” means “Orphan”. Maybe
you can guess what happened to her mother.
The 2003 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p.
254
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