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I’m a tadpole, a very, very, very small tadpole.

I have no aspirations to remain a tadpole. Oh no. I’m going to grow big and strong and maybe even become a bull frog with a deep-deep voice. I’m going to sing bass in the pond chorus at night. “Baarf-baarf-baarf” and the new little tadpoles will be wide-eyed and dumbstruck. No simple princely title for me, I’ll be King of the Pond.

Or not. In my tadpole stage I might become a snack for a huge blue heron or a small egret; or a fish or even a King Frog; I might even get stuck in the teeth of an alligator as he sucks in water and I’m so insignificant he wouldn’t even know I’m there.

I’m a happy tadpole. Here, there, everywhere, dodging danger and hiding under leaves. Why do I want to grow up?

Well no, I’m not a tadpole but I know how a tadpole must feel. I’m a happy tadpole writer with a small but faithful following. And yes, it would be nice to go “baarf-baarf-baarf” in the “Writers’ Chorus” and yes, as a tadpole writer I’m easy fodder for negative comments and hungry predators but really, all I need do is duck under the shield of the Almighty and like King David of old, I’m good.

Remember that hiding place when you feel like an insignificant tadpole.

Cyber hugs and blessings all.

2 Samuel 22:3   “The God of my strength, in whom I trust, my shield …..”


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