It started off as a harmless outing to feed the ducks. But once the bread was gone, it all went downhill from there, quite literally. You see, we fed the ducks out in the grass, and somehow we ended up down the hill, in the pond with them. The bread-tossing turned to pebble-tossing, and the ducks were fooled for a while. Once the rocks became less food-like and more weapon-like, the ducks made their exit. During the entire time, Courben and I were quiet. The only sounds were the quacking of the ducks, the plopping of the rocks, and the squishing of the mud. The time turned out to be a time of rest and abiding for me, one that I had not planned or expected. Isn’t it neat how God honors the little things and the slowing down?