I’m finding it hard to carve out quiet time for writing and other things that require uninterrupted focus since Noah is here with me on these long Summer days. Of course my thoughts continue and I miss the outlet of writing that allows me to weave them together into a more coherent form. Noah is sleeping in this morning which is very unusual so I’ve meandered down to the computer after having my coffee and Bible Study to at least touch base with all of you who are kind enough to take the time to read my thoughts.
One of the things I’ve come to look forward to in Spring is the sweet birds who consistently find their way to our front porch to build their nests and hatch their young. The first year they came was the year Heather left our nest and ventured out on her own. My sorrow and sadness was great and I found soothing comfort from having the opportunity to watch in nature the process that was unfolding in my own life.
I would sit outside on those long hot days and watch as the diligent Mom and Dad birds fretted over their nest. So much work, so much time, so much preparation and care…I would cry silent tears and remember the days, months, and years of my own tender care and loving watchfulness that had brought me to the place I then found myself.
I truly loved watching those bird parents bring food, piece by piece, to their noisy little ones after they hatched out and began to poke their little heads up with open mouths searching for nourishment. I thought, “even those tiny creates are demanding from birth as our own little ones come screaming into the pictures that are our lives.”
So much activity ensued in the days following their emergence. I found myself worrying about the heat and the Mom and Dad bird, but everything that was needed was provided by those unseen hands that had provided all that I had needed in the years I spent raising Heather. Far too quickly according to my timetable, I noticed Mom and Dad bird were demonstrating new behaviors and coaxing their little ones to do the same.
In a flurry of bird songs and the fluttering of wings, the little ones began to expand their wings. Mom and Dad seemingly took turns leading the way from the safety of the nest to the cluster of trees a few feet from the porch until finally one of the strongest and bravest of the brood made her way to the edge of the nest and with what looked like great effort leapt from the perch. The air as a partner aided her tiny wings as she flew haphazardly toward her new destination.
The last one didn’t leave the nest for three more days and would frantically chirp from the perch as the others, already gracefully soaring, encouraged her from the nearby trees. Mom and Dad continued to light for brief moments on the edge of the nest and would encourage again with song and flight to the one who hesitated in fear until that exciting moment when the small one took her flight.
I couldn’t help but smile and cry when I saw the hard work of those diligent parents coming to fruition in the lives of their young. Every year since then, new families of birds have made our home, our front porch, their sanctuary for their precious journey together in continuing the cycle of life. It never fails to inspire me and to remind me of the journey I’ve already taken and the one that yet lies ahead for me and my boy.
May we all be encouraged as we reflect on the gift of life and find our way in fulfilling our purpose in the lives of our children.