
The Turtle
On one of my morning walks, I saw a baby turtle in the road.
Not near the road. Not beside the road. Right in the middle of it.
I stopped walking and stared at the little thing, trying to decide what to do.
Should I move it?
Am I supposed to move it?
Which direction was it trying to go?
How do you even pick up a turtle?
I even called my husband, wise in all things, to ask what I should do.
But while I was standing there asking questions and gathering information, a truck drove by.
And just like that, it was over. No more decision to make.
I stood there stunned.
Not because I had done something wrong.
Because I had done nothing.
I thought about that turtle all day.
It wasn’t cruelty that stopped me. It was hesitation.
And if I’m honest, that isn’t the first time hesitation has cost me something.
Sometimes I spend so much time trying to figure out the perfect response that I never respond at all.
I’ve delayed difficult conversations because I didn’t know exactly what to say.
I’ve postponed dreams because I wasn’t sure where to start.
I’ve waited to pray because I wanted the words to sound right.
I’ve convinced myself that doing nothing was safer than doing the wrong thing.
But not making a decision is still a decision.
Doing nothing has consequences too.
As I reflected on that morning, a verse comes to mind:
“Open rebuke is better than love carefully concealed.” — Proverbs 27:5 (NKJV)
At first glance, that verse seems unrelated to a turtle in the road. But it is.
Sometimes doing nothing feels like the safest option. Remaining silent can appear loving. Avoiding conflict can look like peace. Waiting can seem wise.
But discernment and passivity are not the same thing.
Wisdom doesn’t always tell us to stay quiet. Sometimes wisdom tells us to speak up. Sometimes love requires hard conversations. Sometimes compassion requires action.
I wonder how many times I’ve mistaken hesitation for wisdom.
Maybe that’s another lesson hidden in all of this. Seeking wisdom is good. Seeking counsel is wise. But there comes a point when gathering more information becomes a substitute for action.
At some point, discernment has to become action, and love has to move.
Maybe you’ve done it too.
Maybe you’ve delayed the conversation.
Postponed the dream.
Ignored the nudge.
Waited for one more confirmation, one more sign, one more piece of information.
Meanwhile, the opportunity sat right in front of you.
I can’t change what happened to that turtle.
But I can learn from it.
Because sometimes the cost of doing nothing is greater than the risk of doing something.
Sometimes wisdom looks like asking questions.
Sometimes wisdom looks like seeking counsel.
And sometimes wisdom looks like picking up the turtle.






