Birds

The snow was deep on the ground. Everything was covered--the trees and bushes as well as the bird feeders were obscured with the deep snow. The gutters of the house over flowed with snow and icicles from the slow melt. The branches of the bush where the nest was made were so weighted down that the nest was exposed to the wind--shaking, moving in the cutting winter wind.

She was concerned for the tiny birds that nested in the bushes. How would they find enough to eat to stay warm; to live through this round of winter's snowy wonder? The birdseed of the feeder was not accessible; it was frozen; it did them no good. Searching through the kitchen, she found some stale bread; crushed it; and had it poured over the snow between the bush and house to keep it from being blown by the wind.

The birds soon found the bread and ate heartily. Not only the pair that nested in the bushes, but others began to join them and eat their fill. In the next days, birds came to eat; they came to play; they came to sing; and their community was sustained.

An added benefit to the community gathering in front of her home was watching them through the front windows. They flew in and out--dive bombing the windows; or executing an aerial ballet; singing, chirping--entertaining the occupants of the house. They were oblivious to the those inside and enjoying the life giving bread that they found and shared.

One in the house was particularly watchful. He would see their shadows through the curtain and run through the living room to leap onto the back of the wing chair sitting closest to the window. Sitting silently he would track every movement outside the window. Had they paid him any mind all they would have observed was a statuesque creature--never moving except for his eyes.

Other times he could remain silent no longer--stretching his long, lithe body, he would reach as far as possible with his front paws onto the window and then leap as one of the birds moved. Slapping his paws on the window pane he would reach in vain for one of the birds only to be foiled by the glass. Moving from the chair to the table top and back to the chair, he tried again and again to reach his prey.

To the others both the cat and the birds were amusing. The birds would get active. The cat would race through the house leaping to the back of the chair. He would stand for long periods of time as if trying to figure out a new tactic to reach the birds. Then paw the window, move to a different position, then try it again. The birds would sit on the bushes, fly away, come back, dance with their reflections in the window and generally torture the cat--knowing they were safe.

One day while the birds were taunting the cat, the front door opened and she through more bread crumbs out for the birds. They were swarming the bread, eating their fill--ignoring her. A while later the door opened again. Anticipating more bread, the birds barely lifted their heads. The cat sat poised on the chair . . . watching . . . waiting.

The puppy had also been watching the birds, but without as much interest as the cat. She begged and begged when mom threw out the bread. Why should the birds get all the food--she wanted her share as well. So when mom threw out the bread she tried to grab just a little bit. Mom told her to get back, so she went to her empty food bowl and complained. Of course mom came and filled it for her. She ate a bit. She knew that after she ate, she would get to go outside to "do her business." Well trained, mom went to the door to let her out after she finished eating.

The second the door opened, she knew she was going to leap into the bushes and get herself some bread and if luck prevailed--a bird! The solid door opened. She pushed her way to the edge of the storm door and the moment it unlatched, pushed her way through and leaped onto the snow, whipping around the corner of the porch and into the bush beside it. As the erupted from the house, the birds flew into the air, chirping as they went. The landed on the tree limb closest to the house and chastised her from there. She paced the snow covered ground, leaping and discovered defeat. She could not reach the tortures creatures. Sniffing the ground around them she could, however, devour the remainder of their bread--which she did.

The cat watched from his perch inside the house. The birds watched from their perch in the tree. The dog searched and dug in vain for the remaining bread--never realizing that instead of the ground, the bread had been placed on and in the bush where only the birds could reach.

We spend so much of our time worrying about the future--clothes, cars, gadgets, jobs, savings, investments . . . when in reality none of that is worthy of worry. God will provide. We make plans. We do the best that we can. We try to be good stewards of our resources. We see what others in our world have and we want it too. Circumstances beyond our control happen--a fire, a burglary, embezzlement of funds from our retirement account, costs go up while income goes down--life happens.

That is when our faith is tested. Jesus told the disciples:

If you decide for God, living a life of God-worship, it follows that you don't fuss about what's on the table at mealtimes or whether the clothes in your closet are in fashion. There is far more to your life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body. 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.

Has anyone by fussing in front of the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? All this time and money wasted on fashion--do you think it makes that much difference? Instead of looking at the fashions, walk out into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They never primp or shop, but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them.

If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers--most of which are never even seen--don't you think he'll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I'm trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God's giving. People who don't know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don't worry about missing out. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.

Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don't get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes. (Matthew 6)

Perhaps birds have more to teach us than we have every realized before. There is always provision--even though it may not be in abundance. There is always a way--we just have to look. There is enough to share--it is all God's anyway. There is always love--God's love is never ending. We are not the center of the universe--God is.

God we are so often impatient, wanting more--pawing through glass for what is not ours. Sometimes we amuse ourselves at the expense of others--racing out to grab what little they have or harassing them. We become so engrossed in ourselves, our lives, our wants, our status that we overlook others . . . forget your purpose; your ways. Forgive us. Teach us, God to embody your prodigal love--lavish, abundant, profuse love. Teach us to love. So be it. Amen.