John Maxwell

tells a story that, I believe, teaches a profound message. It seems that

during a recent winter, while all the birds up north were preparing to

migrate south, as the leaves were just beginning to change colors, one

little bird resisted. "I don't know why, every winter, we have to

make that long, arduous journey south. This is a good place here. There

plenty of food, the weather is nice, and I'm tired of making that stupid

trip with all the other birds. I'm staying here."

The other birds

of his flock all tried vainly to persuade their little friend to join

them on their annual journey. "Why?" said the little bird.

"Because

that's the way it's done," replied the leader of the flock. "We've

always flown south in the winter. It's what birds of our kind do."

"But,"

argued the little bird, "has anyone ever stayed here in the winter?

Does anyone know why we always leave?"

The leader

of the flock confessed that he didn't know of anyone who had ever stayed

and neither did he know why the flock left. They just always had. They

always would.

"Not good

enough," said the little bird. He had never liked it in the South

during the winter. It was too crowded, there were too few places to roost,

and the search for food was too competitive. Besides, it was too hot.

He would stay. Sadly, the friends of the little bird bid him farewell

and began to take to the skies. The little bird flew with his friends

for a short distance and then settled on a tree limb and began to wave

good-bye. He stayed in the tree long after the last of the flock had faded

from view.

Before too

long, the little bird was quite alone as all the other birds of his species,

from neighboring flocks, had taken flight. And, sure enough, it was wonderful!

The weather was nice and, since he was alone, food was more than plentiful.

In fact, the little bird ate so much that he even took on more weight

than was normal for him. Life was good. It was very good.

Several days

passed, then a couple of weeks. Other than being lonely occasionally,

the little bird enjoyed himself and marveled at the change in the colors

of the leaves. Why, it was more beautiful here than he could have imagined.

Then one morning,

the little bird noticed a subtle change. The leaves began to drop off

the trees and a chilly wind began to blow from the North. Food was getting

more scarce and the nights were longer and colder. The little bird began

to feel the chill deep in his bones and, after another day or two, realized

that staying behind might not have been the best idea. So, with determination

and chagrin, the little bird took flight and began the lonely journey

to the warm south.

He hadn't been

in the air very long before he noticed that, due to his extra weight,

he was tiring quickly. And then, it began to snow. The little bird had

never even seen snow before. In fact, the first blizzard of the season

hit the northlands and the little bird's wings began to be heavy from

the accumulated snow and ice.

The combination

of snow, ice, cold, and weariness finally took its toll. The little bird

slowly, in a long, pitiful spiral, dropped from the sky and landed gracelessly

in a barnyard. As the little bird was slowly freezing to death, isolated

and alone, he realized that he had made a terrible mistake. In his last

sorrowful moments of life, he took notice of a cow that was walking toward

him.

"Oh no,"

thought the bird. "At least I won't have to worry about freezing

to death. This big cow is going to step on me and crush the life out of

me!"

The cow walked

closer and closer and passed right over the little bird without stepping

on him. Then, suddenly, "PLOP." And the little bird was gone

from view.

"This

is the final indignity," thought the bird, now in a world of smelly

darkness. "It wasn't enough that I'm going to freeze to death. This

stupid cow had to drop its 'plop' on me. Oh, the shame of it allto die

alone and isolated, covered in a cow's 'plop.'"

But then, a

strange thing happened. Encased in the warm "plop," the little

bird's wings began to thaw. The warmth began to return to his shivering

body. Life began to flow again! The little bird thought, "It's a

miracle! I'm not going to die!" He was so overjoyed that he began

to sing like it was spring! In fact, he sang more joyfully and with greater

volume than he ever had before!

Which, unfortunately,

attracted the attention of the barnyard cat, who made his way over to

the "plop" in the middle of the barnyard. Curious at the strange

singing coming from within the "plop", the cat began to paw

around in the stuff until, to his great surprise, he uncovered the singing

bird. Startled at the sight of the hungry cat, the bird ceased his singing.

Quickly, the cat snatched up the little bird and ate him.

Now, here's

the moral of this story: Not everyone who "plops" on you is

your enemy. Not everyone who rescues you from "plop" is your

friend. However, if you do find yourself in a world of "plop,"

have the good sense to just keep your mouth shut.

[Father David

Epps is rector of Christ the King Church in Peachtree City. He may be

contacted at [email protected] or at www.ChristTheKingCEC.com .]