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“Behold, I am doing a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert.”
Isaiah 43:19 (ESV)

I never expected God would use the four little white ducks I put on the pond behind my home to show me what it looks like to keep showing up when life changes and the world around you shifts. After losing my husband, I discovered that belonging can become complicated. The circles you once felt part of suddenly feel smaller. People are kind, but unsure. You walk into a room as the same person you’ve always been, yet everything now feels different. In a way, you’re now, “odd duck out”.

I didn’t realize that adding one new duck to a pond could reveal so much about the emotional ripples that happen when life changes and the people around you don’t know where you fit anymore. It’s a lesson on accepting the status of “odd duck out” and shaping friendship circles that accept you as the “odd duck in”.

My flock of little duckies started with two females.

I then added a male named Pete. A few months later, I introduced another female, Mary. Watching how Pete and Mary each handled being the new one showed me more about belonging than any book could.

When I added Pete, the flock didn’t welcome him. The dominant duck—the queen bee—chased him off, pecking if he tried to come near. Pete became nervous and quiet, darting away at the first sign of conflict. It took months before the others finally accepted him.

Then came Mary.

She faced the same pushback, but she responded differently. She didn’t shrink back nor try too hard. She simply swam a little distance away, gathered herself, and quacked loudly and cheerfully, as if to say, I still belong here. Sometimes she wandered off to visit the mallards, unbothered by who did or didn’t include her. Within a week, she was fully accepted. The mallards even began spending time with my white ducks, something they had never done before.

Mary knew who she was. And because she stood firm in her identity, she didn’t let rejection rattle her.

As daughters of God, we have something Mary didn’t. We have our identity in Christ.

“But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession.”
1 Peter 2:9 (ESV)

“For in Christ Jesus you are all sons of God, through faith.”
Galatians 3:26 (ESV)

When I became a widow, I didn’t retreat, but my world shifted.

Most of my friends were married, and my sudden change seemed to unsettle the balance. People meant well, but often missed the mark by offering advice I hadn’t asked for or sympathy so heavy it made me want to disappear. Some seemed to expect me to play the part of the fragile widow. Others, oddly, showed envy, as if widowhood had freed me. I was free to travel and free to manage my finances my own way. But every bit of that “freedom” had been bought with loss. I was still me, but the rules of belonging had changed.

Over time, God reminded me I didn’t have to chase acceptance. I already had a place because I belong to Him.

“In quietness and in trust shall be your strength.”
Isaiah 30:15 (ESV)

“Enlarge the place of your tent, and let the curtains of your habitations be stretched out; do not hold back.”
Isaiah 54:2 (ESV)

That’s what Mary did without knowing it—she widened the circle. We can do the same, not because we’re sure of ourselves, but because we’re sure of Christ.

Now, when I watch my ducks paddling peacefully together—Pete, Mary, the queen bee, and even the mallards—I smile. God can use the smallest pond to remind us that courage and confidence can turn rejection into belonging.

Father God, please steady our hearts. Remind each woman here that she already belongs to You. Give her courage to show up, confidence to stay present, and grace to widen her circle for new friendships.
Amen.