This story took place in 1995. It was published in Guidepost Magazine and in Amazing Grace for the Catholic Heart and has received more acclaim than anything I’ve ever written




     “Dad, can I just peek inside?” our
ten-year-old son Luke asked, holding a cardboard box.
     “Wait until we get home,” my
husband, Mark, answered.
     This was a day Luke had dreamed of
for weeks.  Finally, ducks!  We had moved out into the country two months
earlier.  Even though we had dogs, cats
and assortment reptiles and amphibians, Luke was impatient for some kind of
farm animal.  His five brothers and sisters
were mildly interested in the ducklings, but not like Luke was.  He was the one who had pleaded mercilessly
for them.
     Even though Luke had begged us for
the ducks, it was the grasshoppers that clinched it.  There was a serious invasion of them that
summer of 1996, inflicting major damage on Mark’s first country garden. “They eat grasshoppers?” Mark had
asked with sudden interest.
  That’s when
Luke knew his dad would relent.
     Luke barely waited until the engine
turned off before he bounced out of the car with his box.  As if unwrapping a preciou8s treasure, Luke
gingerly lifted the lid.  Once by one,
the ducklings jumped out into a blinding August sun. Never content just to
watch critters, he cornered and scooped up the ducklings one by one.  As he held them securely and talked softly,
each one relaxed in this hand until he slowly put it down and lifted another.
     “I’m going to name this one
Quacks,” Luke decided, holding the littlest one.  As Quacks calmed down, Luke held him gently
against his chest and stroked his fluffy down.
     The remainder of the day was spent
with my kids and neighbors coming in and out of the yard to watch the peeping
little flock.  Luke never left the brood
except to each dinner.  Throughout the
day he herded them in and out of Mark’s garden for several periods of
grasshopper patrol.
     As the sun began to set, Luke
steered his ducklings into the garden for one last snack.  When he attempted to return the flock to
their pen, however, he accidentally stepped into their huddle and scattered
them.  The other ducks drew back together
but Quacks ran off.  Luke hurriedly got
the flock into the pen and then chased Quacks where he had scampered behind a
storage chest in the garage.
     “Good, I’ve got him cornered,” Luke
thought.  When he moved the chest aside,
he heard little peeps but Quacks was nowhere in sight.  Taking a closer look, Luke gasped.  Quacks had fallen down a small drainage
pipe.  The opening was golf-ball
sized.  Luke ran into the house for a
flashlight.  The deep hole only swallowed
up his light.  Stricken, he walked into
the house to find me.
     “Mom, something bad has happened,”
Luke said.  He explained the
situation.  “Is there anything we can
do?” he asked doubtfully.
     I went with him to the hole.  “I can’t think of anything,” I told him
helplessly.
     “That’s what I thought,” he said
and sadly turned to the house.  “And he
was my favorite one too—Quacks.”  The
day, which had started with such promise, had turned sour.  Bedtime was quiet except for the
heartbreaking peeps that drifted into my second-floor bedroom from the garage
underneath.
     There were still eleven duckling
left but the little lost one broke our hearts. 
The parable of the Good Shepherd suddenly took on a new relevance.  Quack’s frantic cries continued through the
night. When I awoke to his peeps early the next morning, I wondered how long
before lack of food and water would finally quiet him.
     “Food,” I thought.  “That’s it!” 
Luke, the first one up, was just coming out of his room.  “Luke,” I whispered,” I have an idea.  What if you used a piece of fishing line and
tied a grasshopper to the end of it?  If
Quacks is hungry enough, maybe he’ll swallow it and you can pull him up. Then
we can cut the end of the fishing line off.” 
I admitted I had no idea if he could survive swallowing the fishing
line.
     “It’s worth a try,” Luke said,
bounding out the door.  He returned a
short time later.
     “Mom,” Luke called excitedly.  “Can you pray?  Quacks bites the grasshopper but when I pull
up the line, he lets go.”
     I was surprised by the
question.  Pray for a duck?  Luke looked at me hopefully, so of course I
told him yes.
     As he left to try again, Luke’s
request suddenly made perfect sense.  God
made animals with feelings.  They got
cold, scared, lonely, tired, and hungry. 
I sat down in the living room and prayed for God to guide Quacks up out
of the hold.  IN minutes, Luke returned
with a big smiles and a little duckling.
Luke, age 10, and Quacks
     “He bit the grasshopper and I was
able to pull him all the way up,” he explained breathlessly.  “When I grabbed him, he just let the
grasshopper drop out of his mouth.” 
     By now the other kids were coming
downstairs.  As we filled them I in on
the rescue, I could not get over the fact that Quacks had actually made it out
of the hole. “Didn’t you all thing it was
impossible that we’d ever see Quacks again?” I asked.
     The kids looked at me
surprised.  “I knew God could do anything
so I prayed to Him last night to save quacks,” seven-year-old Tyler said,
nonchalantly.
     “That’s what I did too,” agreed
Luke.”
Luke today, age 28
     Now, I was really impressed.  Their faith had no limits.  If God could save wayward souls that fall
through the cracks, how could I have doubted that He would be wiling to save
our wayward Quacks in answer to the prayers of children of such faith?  
                                                       ###
  Instead of saving ducks these days, Luke is a freelance writer and also works to save people from hardships. He was the program director for the God’s Child Project in Guatemala for 4 years. Currently, he is raising money to help keep 55 children in school there. Two of girls he actually saved from living in a garbage dump several years earlier had returned to the dump due to loss of funding for them.(The brothel 1/2 mile away recruits such girls.)   He got them out again and back into school through the Integral
Heart Foundation
.  He is raising money for this program which strives to keep people from falling into the cracks. Consider giving please. 


To keep the inspiration going, check out: Big Hearted: Inspiring Stories From Everyday Families  a collection of stories on love and life, and  Dear God, I Don’t Get It, children’s fiction that presents faith through a fun and exciting story. Follow Patti at Twitter and like her Facebook pages at Dear God Books,  Big Hearted FamiliesA GPS Guide to Heaven and Earth 


   

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