Nesting sites

 

I watch the birds check out our multi-story birdhouse, built years ago by Doug and Don. The roof has come off, as have one or two perches. The paint is peeling.

It’s cosy, they probably agree – if we don’t choose the upper room under the leaky roof. The climbing rose provides enough perch. The birdfeeders are in close proximity. All right, it’s a bit run down, but it’ll do nicely.

I watch them pop in and out of the various nesting sites. I wonder what they are looking for. What will persuade them to nest here and not there.

There is something so healing in watching nature, in observing the progression of seasonal change. I am not in charge. I am a spectator, and I know it.

Look at the birds, Jesus advised. They don’t sow or reap or store away in barns, yet the Father feeds them. Aren’t you worth more to Him than they are? Can any of you, by worrying, add a single hour to your life?

I am not in charge.

Worry is a red flag to me, alerting me that my trust in God’s ability to handle situations is shaky.

Today, Lord, may I look at the birds, and remember the depth of your love: that you were willing to hang on a cross and die for me. May my roots of faith sink deeper into your love, Lord Jesus.