After a long week of appointments and frustration “Don’t drop the milk.” was my only cognizant thought I could manage as I made my way to the front door. I was carrying enough flimsy plastic grocery bags threaded over my hands up my wrists to stretch my arms like the loverly ladies in Africa wear bangles to stretch their necks…
I may have been defying the advice of my neurologist, common sense and physics at the same time. I’m talented like that. (Am I the only one who insists on carrying in ALL the bags at once? At least one breaks open in the driveway every week…) I vaguely recall hearing the chatter of a robin as I concentrated on not dropping the milk while simultaneously juggling bags, milk and opening the front door. Bad plan.
Vaguely, that is, until the robin dove at me like a B1 bomber.
That. Got my attention. (It also caused me to drop the milk. Whatever. There’s always next week. I shall conquer the grocery bag challenge: next week.)
Feeling like my little corner of suburbia had been transformed into a Hitchcock flick- I tried to figure out what the deal was. Rabies? (Can birds get rabies? No clue.) Possession? (Do birds have a soul? They have cold feet so I don’t think so. Interesting factoid: actual live birds freak me out. It’s their warm feet. They should be cold. They look like branches and should feel like them, too. I said so.) Or was there something paranormal going on?
Probably not. Robins are pretty docile unless you mess with their nests.
Which, I had failed to notice her build in the fake geraniums next to our front door. (A much better place than the year she tried the light fixture near the back door. Can you say: scrambled eggs. I may have cried.)
A little peek showed me that not just a nest was being protected. There were four tiny beautiful blue eggs tucked inside. I’d be a touch angsty too, if a crazy woman juggling enough groceries to choke a hippo, were that close to my babies.
A NEST! EGGS! How could this be?????
The annual hunt for and vigil over “the nest” is an event I treasure. (Enter “nest” in the search bar to the left and you can read the truths and stories that nests and robins have brought to life for me.) Not this year. In the crazy that is cancer, deadlines and lunch boxes with spilled yogurt in them and laundry- I forgot to look for the nest.
Instead, the nest found me.
I rushed through the Jenga game that is putting groceries into my pantry. “I have to check the nest!” I chirped to myself. Sounding as crazy, I’m sure, as a B1 bomber Robin. Groceries carefully stacked- (I don’t recommend trying to pull out a can of tomato soup. You will lose the game.) I head out to the front porch, risking another bird attack and apologizing to the momma the whole time- to snap a few pics.
I’ve done the same everyday since. Mostly, sans the grocery debacle. This morning- after a long weekend away- I discovered fluffy balls of adorableness stretched out here the eggs had been. They hatched! All 4!
The miracle of life, never ceases to amaze me.Neither does the incredible God who knows I am so crazy that I forget to look for the things that remind me of truth, so He moves them where I can’t miss them. And maybe sends a bird bombing just to be sure I don’t miss it.
Just when I needed to be reminded the most. When I was tired, overwhelmed, frustrated, distracted and afraid.
When I was questioning… are you with me Lord? Even here?
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
Dear Lord- Thank you for getting my attention when I didn’t even know I was distracted. Thank you for the reminder that YES. Even here- you will guide me. Thank you for holding me in your right hand- safer than any nest in fake geraniums. I love you lord- amen. PS- next time? Maybe a little less Hitchcock, ok? Although, it was effective.. I’ll give you that.