like a sparrow
Up in the eaves of our house the sparrows have been hard at work, building nests and rearing young families. And generally making a mess, but we won't talk about that too much! Frank did patch up a few holes in the guttering over the front entrance - the birds initially went nearly crazy, twittering urgently and flitting back and forth in search of another entrance to their homes before eventually finding somewhere else to build a nest.
Over the back verandah another sparrow couple constructed a very clever nest, also in our guttering - it was positioned perfectly in the middle of a beam so we couldn't climb up and reach it without the risk of breaking our necks. We would look up at the scrappy collection of grass and leaves poking out from the metal and sigh about those pesky birds!
After a while our annoyance turned to fascination. Those little sparrows were sure busy, flying in and out with more materials for their nest, ("Honey, do you think this twig looks good here or should I place it over there?") constructing a safe haven for their babies-to-be. Back and forth they went, flapping and tweeting in a bustle of activity.
And then we heard them - the fragile chirps of newly hatched chicks. "Chirp, chirp, chirp. Chirp, chirp, chirp." The sparrows activity became fever pitch, as they ducked in and out with sustenance for their littlies. At times they kept guard over the entrance to their nest, hoping to ward off ravens intent on turning their young into a tasty morsel. As Frank and I watched we realised it couldn't be long before the babies learned to fly and headed off into the world on their own.
Then it happenned. The mummy and daddy flew back and forth, beckoning their young to join them in their arc over the garden. And one day they did. They launched themselves off the edge of the gutter, soared over the lawn and landed amongst the leaves of a nearby tree. Soon they never came back.
It's quiet over our verandah now. The grass still pokes out, telling it's story of the sparrow family that now fly freely around the sky. Never mind the mess - we look at the grass and kind of miss our little friends.
They reminded me of something Jesus said:
Look at the birds, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, careless in the care of God. And you count far more to him than birds.Frank and I went for a walk together yesterday morning, and as we walked rain began to gently fall on us (not enough to fill our tanks even an inch mind you!). I held out my hands and threw my head back and just enjoyed the feel of the water splashing on my skin. I thought of the sparrows and I knew it was true. God is caring for me, watching over me, loving me. There's deep comfort there.