‘That is why I tell you not to worry…Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are?‘
– Matthew 6:26 NLT
Today I have been housebound. My wife has jury duty (ugh!), and I am home with the kids (we homeschool). It’s a day off for the kids, but I’ve been trying to get a few things done. Sitting on the front porch with my laptop, my mind drifted back about ten years to an adventure I had on another work at home sort of day. And since this is turning out to be a slow day, I figured I would write about it. I hope it encourages you.
It was a nice day, and I was working at a table beside the sliding glass doors that overlooked our back yard when my dog bolted upright and began barking like crazy. I figured it was a squirrel rummaging through the garbage, but when I looked, I saw instead a baby blue jay. More accurately, a blue jay on the verge of adolescence. It had feathers, but its size and coloring suggested it was too young to be sitting in the shadow of my trash. Obviously, I concluded, the poor little guy had fallen from his nest and needed assistance – and I was just the guy to provide it (I could almost hear the Mighty Mouse theme: ‘here I come to save the day!’). I dialed several bird rescue agencies until I finally connected with a real person. ‘Success,’ I inwardly shouted, only to be put on hold. I hate being put on hold.
With nothing to do but listen to the agency’s cued up New Age music, I decided to use my time productively. It was warm outside, and so I figured the little guy needed a drink. Awkwardly, I cradled the phone between my shoulder and ear, filled a little bowl with water and headed out to play hero. I put the bowl in front of him, but misunderstanding my good intentions, he flapped his fledgling wings, ascended to a mighty altitude of two inches, and fluttered a mere two feet away. He looked at me as if I was out of my mind. Frustrated but undaunted, I went back inside to regroup. ‘Birdseed!’ I thought, ‘That’s the ticket! What bird can resist birdseed?’ Alas, the cupboard was bare of birdseed. But such was my desire to be the Saint Francis of my time that I crumbled some crackers on a plate, called it birdseed, and made a second effort, this time with a fool proof plan. I would corral him so he could not get away, and then make nice with the crackers. There was no way I could fail! The bird would be so happy with me that he would spend the rest of his days singing outside my bedroom window.
There was just one thing I didn’t consider: baby blue jays have mothers.
She didn’t appreciate my noble effort at all. No sir-ee Bob. Oblivious to her presence or even existence, I made my way toward her baby, when – ZOOM – she came out of nowhere, a soaring blue blaze determined to destroy me, sent from the heavens above, careening at the last second just inches above my head. She made a racket that would have frightened Bear Grylls and had a ten foot wing span (OK, maybe not Bear Grylls, and maybe she was smaller than that, but hey, I’m trying to preserve my dignity here). I ran back to the shelter of the house, cracker crumbs trailing behind me, the stink of failure all over me, shouting all sorts of things like – well, this is a faith blog so let’s leave it there. All the while desperately endeavoring to keep the phone in its precarious place betwixt my neck and shoulder (which at least provided theme music for the event – life should always have theme music, don’t you think?).
It was in the midst of this donnybrook of man verses bird that I heard an understandably perplexed and somewhat frightened voice: ‘This is [whoever the heck she was]. Can I help you?’
Embarrassed, I attempted to explain myself. This was difficult, what with Mama blue jay swooping back and forth over the patio and roaring like a pterodactyl. She was feeling pretty strong let me tell you. It was as if her activity was meant to serve a dual purpose: keep me away from her little one and let him know she was there. She succeeded on both fronts: no way was I going back out there, and her baby was looking up at her the whole while. Moments before he had been agitated by my presence (the lousy ingrate, jk), but now, he was the very picture of serenity.
I told the bird lady what had happened, and she snickered like she had too much water up her nose. I got the sense she could barely contain herself. I didn’t see what was so funny. But then she explained that my helpless blue jay had never been in trouble. A mother blue jay, it turns out, will literally kick her babies out of the nest. It’s how they learn to fly. The idea is to encourage them to stretch their wings in an attempt to come home. All the while, the baby birds are perfectly safe. As they struggle to use their wings, she sits nearby and watches, chirping every so often to let them know she’s still there. If any big scary animals come by (like me), then the little tykes get an extra lesson on how blue jays defend themselves. The woman on the phone explained that as long as Mom was around, there was nothing to worry about, and that if I wanted to see for myself why mama blue jays put their young through this, I should just sit back and watch.
So I did. And let me tell you, it’s a beautiful thing to see a baby bird learn to fly. He fluttered about like a bumble bee on steroids over to the shade of a pine tree, and then, with a mighty stretch of his wings (for a baby bird) flew branch by branch up to his mom and his nest, where he was as safe as safe could be. As Mom cleaned him up after his adventure, you could almost hear her say, ‘well done, son, well done.’
I have to tell you, I felt like an idiot. All that time, I thought that little bird must have been so worried. But he wasn’t worried at all (at least until I entered the picture!). He knew he was watched over, protected, and provided for. And as I thought of that, I really felt like an idiot. Because I suddenly thought of all the times when I have felt lost and vulnerable, alone and afraid, outside the ‘nest’ of safety, imagining all sorts of terrible things that might happen to me. When in fact, I am being watched over too. I too am guarded and guided. I too am being provided for. Indeed, it may well be that the reason I am in the situation in the first place is because I need to learn something that will enable me to stretch my wings and fly. Something to help me find my way home. Something that will enable me to become everything that the one who watches over me desires me to be.
You know the song, don’t you?
Let not your heart be troubled
His tender word I hear.
And resting on his goodness
I lose my doubts and fears
Tho by the path he leadeth
But one step I may see
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know he watches me
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know he watches me (Civilla D. Martin).
Jesus is right. We need to look to the birds. Both sparrows and blue jays. They have more sense than we do.
Under Christ’s Mercy,
Brent
