September 2, 2012
A lone goose calls out from the foggy dawn of the small lake this morning. There is a pale eeriness to its desperate plea for response. With each pause, silence is returned. A few feet away, Autumn Trail preens his iridescent and white feathers. An unusually handsome Muscovy Duck, Autumn Trail has found company with the lone Canada Goose.
***
Canada Geese have been abundant this summer, and from these bounteous beings spring the cutest little tutu tailed goslings. Week by week I watched as those tiny chirping chicks morphed quickly into beautifully cloaked adult geese. Walkers, runners, strollers and sitters alike would pause by the bank of the lake for a quiescent peek into the less than private lives of these migrant visitors.
On an early morning walk this summer, I noticed something in the road ahead. As I briskly approached the object, my reluctant and dreaded suspicions were confirmed. One of the geese lay motionless on the warming blacktop. A dirty, soon to be scorching tarred pavement cradled the body of this stately creature I had so enjoyed observing. I made a spontaneous decision. Confirming death, I gently lifted the goose and placed it in the water. This life-giving water, the source of which in just a few short months had been a haven of liquid refreshment, refuge, food, courting ritual and community, would now embrace the small withering carcass making its way towards the center of the lake. I would contemplate in silence as the waves gently rocked the flaccid form. Behind me, the familiar flock of geese (including the season’s goslings which by now have taken on the appearance of young adults) watched intently.
I had become the observed.
Looking into their piercing black eyes, I wondered what they were thinking, communicating, feeling, comprehending. They had spent their entire summer together. Were they aware of the dramatic scene being staged before them? Someone was missing a parent, child, sibling, mate and companion. And now, just beyond the bank of their summer home, feathers glistening beneath the morning sun, the flock watched with reverent caution.
Days after, a lone goose would be seen lagging behind while the rest of the flock flew in and out of the lake area. The young were finally in the air and learning the ways of their ancestors. But this companionless soul would remain, calling loudly as if in quest of someone, eyes roaming to and fro, endlessly in search of that which was lost. From a distance, I would see the same scene night after night, a tiny silhouette swimming alone, its sole companion, the Muscovy Duck who had preferred the odd alliance with the flock of geese, over three inseparable Mallard Ducks who had made their home at the lake.
~~
It had been several days since I had seen the lone goose. The flock spends less and less time here now. Migration season is very near - perhaps today. I sense the lone traveler is making its last desperate attempts to call to itself the absent companion, the one whose spirit now hovers over the waters.
As I unhurriedly stroll home, the lonesome call of the solitary goose follows - its forlorn echo piercing the depths of my soul.
~~
We call into the darkness, the thin veil occluding our vision from all that is Light.
We search, eyes wide open, for a miniscule glimpse of Hope.
We listen intently for that inner voice to reaffirm and reassure us that we are not alone.
We tirelessly and desperately pursue that which our soul is familiar--Spirit.
We lag behind, separating ourselves from the conformity of routine and the habitual, in pursuit of--Purpose.
We are on a wild goose chase, all the while its spirit hovers just over us and within us.
~~
Bathed in a chasm of darkness, the spirit of God hovered over the waters.
“Let there be Light!”
And it was as He had spoken. Light entered the world and it was good.
And that light was the Light of all life.
And we no longer desperately call out into the darkness.
*Lone Goose* image copyright of Hope - of Hope's Hollow in partnership with
Anchored4Christ
