top of page

The Mother's Day Story . . . that wasn't




 

Picture this: a serene afternoon—the sun casting a warm glow on the porch swing, the air filled with the promise of spring. But wait, there’s a twist! Enter our unlikely hero (or villain, depending on your perspective): the black rat snake. His mission? To raid the nest of baby birds, heedless of the consequences. Move over, Mama bird; it’s time for a showdown!

 

The Battle Unfolds

Mama Bird sounds the alarm as the snake coils on the porch swing. Help! Oh, help! She cries from a nearby fence. She’s not alone; even my teenage sons join the chant. I ran outside, brandishing my stick, determined to protect the nest. There we are, two mothers, side by side, united in purpose. When Mama Bird launches her attack, I can’t help but cheer her on. You go, girl! The snake is knocked to the ground, high-tailing it across the rocks and gravel. Ah . . . but the snake is cunning—he slips away to a drainpipe, biding his time.

 

The Storm and the Snake’s Resilience

A storm brews, raging against our resolve, and chases us into the house. Surely, he has gone on his way. Yet, when the tempest subsides and we go to check on our babies, there he is—wrapped around the now-empty nest. The snake has returned, defying all odds. He has managed, once again, to lift himself onto the porch swing, scaling the chain, and claiming victory at nearly eight feet to the nest. Bruised and battered, he persists. I am devastated. My mama’s heart hurts for the robin who is surely off somewhere morning her lost babies.

 

Comparing to Our Own Struggles

Why, Lord? Why all that effort only to have the story end this way? I tossed and turned all night, my dreams haunted by serpents and unanswered questions. Come morning, as I settled into my daily devotional routine, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being utterly outmaneuvered—by a reptile, no less! I sat down, preparing to approach the throne of God with my petitions. This was meant to empower and uplift, yet I felt I’d already lost the day’s first skirmish. Defeat seemed to be my shadow, trailing me from one prayer to the next, leaving me to wonder—when will the scales of fortune tip in my favor?

 

My verse of the day was Luke 18:1. It reminds us to pray without ceasing, to persistently seek divine guidance and strength. Yeah, right? Persistent like that stupid snake—wait! Yes, precisely like that persistent snake. When life knocks us down, we sometimes slither away, defeated, and crawl up under a bush. I thought that snake would give up—I would. But no, that slimy serpent doesn’t care what others think; his eye remains fixed on the prize. As much as I hate snakes, I reluctantly had to admire his perseverance. Sometimes, as writers, we need a little more snake-like determination.

 

Publishing and Our Dreams

I’m the last one to compare myself to a snake, but I couldn’t help but think about how we, as writers, face setbacks. Publishing houses wield giant sticks that knock our hopes down, agents peck at our work, and readers sometimes leave reviews that have us retreating to the bush of shame, questioning our dreams. But we mustn’t give up. If a limbless snake can scale heights, surely, we can overcome obstacles. God has gifted us with talents—let’s use them to achieve the seemingly impossible. In that same chapter, just a few verses down, that the things which are impossible with men are possible with God. Turn your story of trial into a tale of triumph. And hey, if the snake can’t get one book published, it doesn’t mean it can’t wind up on the bookshelves with another.

 

So, let’s persevere. When knocked down, let’s rise again. Whether it’s writing, publishing, or any other dream, we’ll find a way. The snake, despite its flaws, teaches us resilience. And perhaps, just like him, we’ll claim our prize—even if it means navigating the heights and pushing that metaphorical button to publish.

 

May we all embrace the snake’s tenacity and soar toward our dreams.

Komentarai


Featured Posts
Recent Posts
Search By Tags
Follow Us
  • Twitter Classic
  • Facebook Classic
  • RSS
bottom of page