“Sometimes it is not difficulty that makes me think God will forsake me, but drudgery.” –Oswald Chambers
Day after day she sits.
Every morning she is in the same spot. Sometimes she looks one direction. Sometimes she moves and looks another. But she doesn’t leave her roost.
She stays as the sun rises.
She remains through the day.
When wind picks up and rains drops fall, she watches, unflinching and unmoving.
When the twilight comes, she keeps her post.
I look for her at the start of my day. Pulling back the drapes, I see her once again. I try to take a photo, but she has hidden herself well. After several failed tries, I leave her to her privacy.
As I sit to sip my coffee and open my Bible, a movement outside catches the corner of my eye. She has not left but shifted once again. But something is different.
Looking up and out into the trees in my yard, I strain again to see Mama Bird. I’ve been watching her daily this spring. She’s still in the nest, but now I also see someone else. A small fuzzy someone.
Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. –Matthew 10:29-31 NIV
On one side of the four inch aspen trunk I see Mama’s tail feathers. In the nest on the other side are twitching new feathers. I cannot see their heads. What is their interaction? Is she feeding him?
I go back to my cup and study but soon I’m at the window. I see two tiny heads. Mama bends over to a very small, almost indiscernible one. A newborn. He isn’t twitching; he’s hatching. Oh, happy birthday!
As baby breaks free, he ruffles Mama’s feathers. She is on high alert. Does she see me? Her small head twists as baby presses through.
Another glance up and out. Now I see them both. A few minutes later I again only see Mama. In the same nest, the same place she has been every night and day for over a month.
Though she hasn’t left, she sits higher. Again I notice her ruffled feathers. Oh, Mama, how I can relate. Bless you.
I glance at the clock: 23 minutes until my baby birds are up. Another day for me in the same place. I shift from the kitchen to the laundry room, but the tasks ahead look much like yesterday’s.
In small moments of frustration, I look up and out. I see Mama there. Great is her faithfulness, I muse, because great is Yours.
Oh, Lord, You are here. You see Mama, and you see me. Thank You for the mundane and the chance to trust You in it.