When we first moved to Florida, Matt was four, Brad was one and Meghann ... well, Meghann came along about nine months after we moved. We lived in a one-level quadruplex at the end of a cul-de-sac ... our apartment was one of 250 units that made up the subdivision. The area was beautifully landscaped with tropical flowers and exotic fauna of all kinds, glistening ponds where children and parents would fish, and towering palm trees that brushed the blue of the south Florida sky. Yep, it was a beautiful place for sure.
It didn't take long for my boys to discover that there were ducks living in the pond just to the right of our apartment, and every day Matt, Brad and I would take an afternoon walk so they could feed the ducks. It also didn't take long for those ducks to learn that if they followed us and quacked loudly enough, we would come back outside and give them more bread. My sons looked forward to duck time every day, and I looked forward to seeing my two little guys having so much fun. Duck time was great ... until ... until the day the ducks scared the daylights out of Matt.
We had noticed that two of the ducks hadn't been around for a couple of weeks, and the day they returned, they returned with like a million baby ducks. No, really ... they came back with a ton of baby ducks. Matt and Brad were mesmerized by the young ducklings, and I must admit, they were pretty darn cute ... both the baby ducks and my little boys, especially when the ducklings lined up and followed us home. I'm not sure who was begging harder ... the baby ducks for more food or Matt and Brad for more food to give them. Since I didn't have any more bread, I grabbed a box of Cheerios and we headed back outside.
The ducklings were congregated on the sidewalk, so I tossed some of the cereal just beyond them so they would move and then handed the box to Matt and told him he could feed the rest to the duckies. I had no idea that ducks love Cheerios so much ... so much so that before Matt could get to the end of the sidewalk, all those baby ducks (along with their parents, who had just arrived on the scene) descended upon my son. The ducks were pecking at Matt's shoes, biting at his clothes and trying with all their might to get to the Cheerios. The more tightly my terrified ... and by then screaming little boy ... clutched the cereal box, the more aggressive the squawking gaggle became. It wasn't until I swooped Matt into my arms and attempted to shoo away the ducks that Matt dumped all the Cheerios on the ground just beneath my feet, causing me to scream right along with Mattie as I tried to get away from the mighty, ferocious duck brigade.
Yesterday as I was channel surfing, I was happy when I stumbled upon Mighty Ducks II. I'm sure some of you remember those movies ... the story about a hockey team composed of misfit boys who eventually become champs under the leadership of a coach who had lost his way in life as well. In the second Ducks movie, the coach allows the success of making it to the Goodwill Games go to his head, becoming more concerned about securing corporate sponsors than the boys themselves. The film contains some great life lessons about being true to who you are, about what it means to be part of a team, about what strong leadership really means. But as I watched the movie yesterday, I was struck with one lesson in particular ... one really powerful lesson.
The more the coach succumbed to the glory of fame and the temptation of power, the farther apart he grew from the team of boys he cared so much about. The more he tried to make the boys look and act like what other people were telling him Team USA should look and act like, the more the team fell apart. It wasn't until an old friend confronted him and encouraged him to remember who he was and where he came from ... it wasn't until his friend told him to be the coach he was born to be ... it wasn't until he searched his heart and found himself again that he was able to lead the boys to victory. And you know what? It wasn't the fancy Team USA that won the championship ... it was the Mighty Ducks. It was when the coach and the boys quit trying to be the team everyone told them they should be and started being the team they were meant to be that they won. The boys were a miserable mess as Team USA, but as Mighty Ducks ... as Mighty Ducks, they were champions.
As the movie ended, I couldn't help but think about something I said in the conference room the day I fell apart and told my friend the truth about who I am. "You can put a snake in a sheepskin, and it's still a snake." Just like Ducks trying to be Team USA, a snake trying to look like, act like or be a sheep is a miserable mess, too.
Quack ... quack ... quack, friends ... quack ... quack ... quack.
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