Our pastor told this story during his sermon last week (my paraphrase):
There once was a little songbird who was late flying South. His wings got wet and then they froze. Shivering, he fell to the ground, right in the middle of a field. As he lay there, cold and miserable, he thought, “Oh, what can I do? What will become of me? I’ll never sing again.”
No sooner had he nearly given up hope than a cow came along and deposited a large pile of manure right on top of him. “Oh!” thought the bird, “What’s this? I feel warm, and I can move again! Oh, this is wonderful!” And he began tweet-tweet-tweeting with joy.
Along came a cat, heard the tweeting, and said, “Hey, what are you doing in that manure pile? Let me give you a hand.” And he pulled the bird out. And he ate him.
Moral of the story:
Someone who dumps manure on you may not be your enemy.
The person who digs you out of the manure may not be your friend.
If you’re in a pile of manure you may not want to sing about it.
