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Grateful for the Goose

During a recent drive past a local pond, I noticed a goose waddling around with an arrow protruding from its' back end. Shocked by the cruelty that someone had inflicted upon this innocent creature, I took action and called animal control. Over the course of two weeks, the image of this goose kept coming to mind. As I drove by the pond again and again, I wondered about this injured being. Is he still alive? Has anyone rescued him? My thoughts soon turned into deeper contemplation. Do I harbor an arrow in my being? Am I wandering through life pierced and wounded? Like the goose, do I flee the hands of compassion longing to assist me? What am I afraid of? Have I become numb and therefore comfortable with the pain? What would it take for me to let it go?

This year, my Lenten sacrifices fell by the wayside after a couple of days and if I had to gauge my attempts to be holy the past five weeks, I would score a measly two. Perhaps this injured goose has given me the best insight I could have prayed for this Lent. Am I resisting the sweet hands of compassion and grace so that I can somehow prove that I can fly around with this arrow on my own? "But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed." Isaiah 53:5

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