Gratefully Supplied

"As water drops on the thirsty ground,
the dry soil slowly drinks in its supply
rain clouds give up heavy droplets..
like diamonds falling from nthe sky
The earth aniticipates its meal -
the clouds happy for the release.

O thirsty ground groans and melts
beneath its heavenly supply
water, sweet sustenance soaks
down to fin awaiting roots

Beneath its hidden soil
roots become alive at the touch
of wet soil
rejuvenation - hungry roots soak
in moisture like a straw
up flows the sustenance, water, life revived

up to the flowering plant
gazing at her provider
up rises weary stalks
straight and strong

sweet fragrance is the grateful gift she leaves
like throwing kisses in the air
flower extends thanks, gratitude
supply...receiving...strengthening..gratefulness"

do robins cry when baby birds die?

i was greeted each morning for the past month by a robin who kept "attacking" her own reflection in our family room window. it wasn't enough for her to attack that window, but she proceeded to visit other windows of our home leaving behind a feathery mess. i wondered what was going on...until i discovered her nest neatly tucked against the house and the drain pipe. a house so skillfully built.. day after day dave, the girls, and i would peek out the door and observe her on her nest..sitting like a princess on her throne. father bird gathered slimey worms and would feed her...at times he would watch the "eggs" while she canvased the garden for tasty treats.

this went on for weeks...during severe rain storms...faithfully sitting on her future flock, protecting, giving...bird teacher telling me that motherhood in the animal kingdom is also about sacrifice. and so i personally observed, took notice, of this bird couple about to hatch a family. until the other day....

i came home to find the nest on the ground and one baby robin dying almost dead. that is when the tears flowed. now why did i cry about a baby bird that died? i wondered if the robins cry when their babies die? of course these are fleeting thoughts...and birds are not people...yet the tears came anyway and the sting was felt...that sometimes, even in sacrifice, when you have done all you can do...dreams fall to the ground and shatter. life turns to death..a page is turned a chapter ended and possibly a book is closed. dreams and visions of what a "flock" would look like takes flight on different wings, catches the winds in directions unfamiliar and sometimes lands in unpleasant places. these are the times where sorrow is felt in mothering...where one...i should say "i" wonder...could i have done better? could i have predicted this outcome? could i have prevented this from happening?

but then i pick up the nest in my hands and carefully exam...each piece of hay, grass entwined, a home weaved from nature itself...hard work on display for all to see...commitment, care, protection...the nest tells me the work is good regardless of the outcome. i can't always "see" the work from the "results" they often bleed together in my thoughts.

and i think of why...why do i do the things i do? is it to look good to others? to somehow prove that i am capable? am i eager to live a life of ease? or do i do what i do to delight the one who observes all? am i "working" to honor Him in all things and leave the results to Him...or better yet, to trust Him with the results...because you see the "results" are not over yet...there is still life and breath...He is still in control over all the affairs of life...over my flock. as i am typing , i can see the strong, beautiful nest out my window....i kept it on a porch table ... a reminder....my efforts are not in vain if they are done for Him.....

....male robin plucks dried grass from nest...flies to another nest...building for the future continues...

Canopy of Grace

As I awoke this morning the thought came to me that I am under a canopy of grace. I am covered, living in the shadow of His love. This canopy protects me from the elements of my day....mighty winds, stormy clouds, and the blistering sun. Canopy set by Sovereign boundaries.

Sometimes, there are seasons where this canopy is closed in, shadow seems small...,hemming me in, cocooning for a season...like the catepillar, a season of change for new growth to transpire. In the chrysallis, time seems irrelevant, as the meticulous and miraculous transforms my being into a greater image of Him. But I must rest secure, waiting for the timing, not rushing a work set in motion. So I quiet my questioning heart...tell my soul to hang, suspended by mercy and grace, and allow change...in the darkness of this place, in the isolation, in the suspension...grace, silent stillness, quiet finger of God at work.