Penguins!

Now that you’ve read the title, do I need to say more?

I guess I should. I can’t complain, given this softball topic. I mean, if a writer (or pastor or teacher) walks away from a penguin colony without a pocketful of analogies and illustrations, then he or she isn’t worthy of their profession.

The sentences almost write themselves.

Oh, my goodness. Now I’ve set the bar too high. But I must press on.

I started smiling when we arrived at Bluff Cove Lagoon in the Falkland Islands. I might have even giggled a few times. And who could blame me? The scores of Gentoo and King Penguins waddled about on the beach and over the scrub-covered meadows like self-important little old men in formal wear, oblivious to our presence only yards away.

If I understood Penguin, I imagine I would have heard them bemoaning the poor quality of fish currently available, sharing recollections of Wilbur (who met his end in the jaws of a sea lion—Wilbur never was a clever bloke, you know) and wondering why the little chicks are so disrespectful these days. (I’d like to add that I am certain they speak in a British accent.)

I never saw the penguins run. Yes, they’d throw their little flight-less wings back to give the illusion of speed, but all they managed was a fast walk. Each step required a mighty effort.

One of the rangers on site mentioned that these same awkward creatures become torpedoes in the water. That is where their true natures shine.

I get that.

I am not an athlete. I tried out for the field hockey and basketball teams and the cheerleading squad in high school. I failed each time. (I was made manager of the girls’ basketball team. I guess that was intended as a reward for my efforts. It wasn’t.)

I made peace with who I am a while back. I exercise regularly, but, trust me, you don’t want me on your church volleyball team.

That’s me on land.

So, when do I become a torpedo?

I have never reached that level of excellence, but I do feel torpedo-like on the dance floor, especially if the song is from the 1970’s. And sometimes, when words flow through my fingers, I can almost sense waves rising and falling above me as I cut through the sea.

This is the nature God gave me. And I pray each day to draw closer to my truest self, the one He’s had in mind all along. I expect that process won’t end until I reach the other side of eternity.

In the meantime, I like to think my Creator grins whenever I throw my wings back and walk as fast as I can.