Falsely accused

We’ve lost some more ducks. It was bound to happen; we’re on top of a hill, and even though we’ve tried to make sure they have plenty of cover, there’s an abundance of hawks and owls and other critters that enjoy a nice duck dinner.

 

My birds are sitting ducks.

 

Now, some of them are dead ducks.

 

And if the others aren’t careful, they may end up as lame ducks.

 

It’s like the presidential election has set up headquarters at my house.

 

But, and this is the part I feel really bad about . . . I falsely accused my dog, Ginger. She is a hound dog, after all. And she does like to hunt coon and rabbit and even (gag!) skunk. But from the time she was very small, we trained her to stay away from our chickens and our ducks. And other than a few minor mishaps and getting caught with couple of tail feathers in her mouth several months ago, she’s been a good girl.

 

When we found a pile of duck feathers near the pond recently, we immediately blamed Ginger. Boy, did we fuss at her. We put her on a chain. We scolded and accused and shamed her into submission, and all the while she just looked at us with those big brown mournful eyes, which we interpreted as a confession.

 

Until we saw something floating in the pond. It was our dead duck. Superman waded out to get him, and found clear talon marks deep in his body. He got away from his predator, but he didn’t make it.

 

And we had some apologies to make.

 

Sweet Ginger. She didn’t hold a grudge at all. Just licked our faces and went on as if nothing had happened.

 

Have you ever been wrongly accused of something?

 

I have. And I must say, it’s not in my nature to be as sweet and forgiving as Ginger was. To be honest, it has me so upset that I really didn’t want to share this with you, my readers. But I’m going to, in case any of you have been falsely accused. Just know, this isn’t an easy article to write.

 

I’ve recently been accused of something that isn’t even remotely true. Not even a shred of truth in it. But the person told me that, while they understand they may be wrong, they just have a gut feeling they’re right about this particular thing, and so even though they have no proof, they’ve chosen to believe their hunch.

 

How do you win against that?

 

How do you even defend yourself against something like a false hunch?

 

Good grief.

 

Now, this thing I’ve been accused of isn’t life or death. But it really bothers me. My first instinct was to pull out all sorts of proof of my innocence in this matter . . . which I did. The person would not be swayed by cold hard proof. Gut instinct, they said, was more important.

 

So there you have it.

 

As I stewed and prayed and stewed some more over this false accusation, I recalled a scene from the Bible. When Jesus stood before Pilate, with all kinds of people accusing him of all kinds of things —falsely, I might add—He didn’t say a word. Just stood there, silently, and let his accusers rail.

 

In Pilate’s eyes, that only underscored his innocence. Where was the self-serving man who was accused of stirring things up? Where was the man who made false claims to elevate his own status? That certainly wasn’t the man standing before him.

 

So Pilate sent this man, this Jesus, to Herod. In Herod’s court, more accusations were brought against Jesus. Yet he did not defend himself. There was nothing to defend. His accusers’ minds were already made up, so any defense would be a waste of breath.

 

But there’s hope in this story, and in every story for anyone who has suffered this way. Eventually, the truth always comes out. Yes, Jesus was killed, but he rose again three days later, and remains the most notable figure in all of history.

 

Ginger, who didn’t protest, has now been exonerated, and is living happily ever after.

 

I don’t know if my accuser will ever realize the truth this side of heaven. But I know one day, our eyes will be opened and we’ll know the truth about so many things we didn’t understand here on earth. I would love to be cleared of this charge, but I’ve decided to just let it go. To remain silent. I’ll just live in the most loving and compassionate way possible, and let my life speak for itself.

 

And in the future, I won’t be so quick to accuse Ginger . . . even if she has feathers in her mouth.

 

“He was oppressed and he was afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; like a lamb that is led to slaughter, and like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, so he did not open his mouth,” Isaiah 53:7.