A Nest of Sparrows

The Southeast gets dreadfully hot during the summer.  We came home from a beach trip a few weeks ago, to find my lovely fern basket littered with brown leaves.  I gathered up my water hose to give my poor plants a much needed drink, and as I approached the hanging basket a sparrow flew out.  "Hmmm, that is odd," I thought to myself. For whatever reason, I was prompted to pull the basket down, where I discovered four newly hatched baby sparrows. Their eyes were closed and their feathers were slick. One slowly opened its beak, begging for food.  I called my children over to look at the birds, and then we gently hung the basket back up.  To be honest, although I loved looking at the sweet, tiny birds I was more involved in trying to figure out how to save my poor fern.  Lord, what am I going to do? My fern that I received for Mother's Day is going to die in this heat without water!  Oh so gently I heard his reply, "Sometimes something important has to die in order that others may live."  It came as gentle as a whisper in the wind, but in that gentleness there was so much power, and depth. These words touched my soul. "I understand Lord. Forgive me for being so selfish and forgetting the importance of these little birds," I prayed.

Over the next few weeks, the Lord used these four little birds to speak to me.  After a day of scorching temperatures, an evening storm popped up. This storm brought wind that ripped down trees in other areas of our town like toothpicks. Sitting in our living room area, I remembered the birds and ran outside to find their little basket swinging wildly.  I took the basket down and looked inside to find the four fuzzy little birds hunkered down and waiting for the storm to pass. I laughed at the thought of them being motion sick from the wild ride on the wind.  I tucked their basket behind a few pieces of heavy wood, all the while being so afraid that the mother bird would not come back to feed them. "Lord please let the mama come back. I am only moving them to keep them protected from the storm. They were about to fall out of the nest!"  After the storm passed, I placed the birds back in their normal hanging position and went to bed.  The next morning I would occasionally check on the nest to see if I could catch a glimpse of the mama there, but I never got a caught a glance of her.  "Lord, please just let me see the mama so that I will know she came back," I pleaded.  The next day after a trip to the grocery store, arms loaded down with bags I closed the trunk of the car, and there she was standing above the babies and feeding them.  "Thank you Lord," I said with genuine sincerity.

The kids and I were excited to watch the progress of the birds.  We laughed at my son who, in surprise of seeing how quickly they had grown, called them "teenager birds."  Again another storm came; again I gently placed them behind some heavy wood for safety.  This time though, after the storm passed, two birds had fallen out of the nest.  We placed a towel on top of one of the birds and then tenderly placed it back into the nest. We approached the other bird, and to our surprise it flew away. "Leaving the nest," I thought. Then I looked at my own little brood. One smiled a jagged little smile at me with a few missing teeth. The other about a head taller than the youngest-still small but yet growing more and more mature each day. "Lord help me on the day that mine fly away," I prayed with a tear. 

Over the next few days we would check the nest to find yet another bird had flown away. Then another. And then, there was one.  We expected it to leave at any time, but as the days passed it was still there.  Was it the one we caught with the towel?  Was it hurt and unable to leave the nest? I felt responsible and guilty.  "Maybe it was born last," my son reasoned.  Perhaps.  Then one morning, we went out, and I did not see it's little head peeping up from inside my brown, lifeless fern.  I brought it down, looked inside and the nest was empty.  The fern was now completely dead, but four little sparrows were in flight.  "There is victory in something empty," the gentle whisper spoke. "You are right Lord. Victory in an empty tomb, which required someone special to die.  And there is victory in this empty nest, sitting inside my dead fern.  Thank you Lord for victory. Thank you Lord for the freedom to soar on wings like eagles.  You always seem to amaze me. Thank you for taking the time to show me this and speak so tenderly to my heart. Lord, why you love me so I will never know" I prayed.   A quick reply came back, "Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." Luke 12:6-7

Oh how he loves us. Oh how he loves me. Truly all of creation screams out the cross and the resurrection.  I  am worth more than many sparrows, and I am never forgotten by God....