For the past several weeks I have watched an elegant momma bluejay sit on her nest. Being on the top floor, her little crafted home was eye level to our guest room. She puffed out her little body during rainstorms, and cut her beady eyes at me when she would catch me staring. I've watched her little eggs hatch and seen tiny bald balls with wide open mouths awaiting her return. Day after day she stuck by her hatchlings. Poppa bluejay occassionally made his appearance by dropping off bugs he'd snatched from the earth. The bald heads that seemed to be all mouth gradually filled out until one day they looked like adult bird heads. Gaulky and half-feathered, the 5 hatchlings began overtaking the nest until there was no room for momma. It was the next day when I observed the nest empty. Fighting my instincts, I couldn't help but look down. There on the isolated ground I saw two little ones. Were they pushed from the nest, did they fall, were they not mature enough yet to fly? Where are the other 3? Did they make it? Is momma bird mournful, or have her instincts simply told her to move on? Questions like these flood my mind, and I wonder how many little birds mature successfully to adulthood, and what is the point of caring for them so meticulously when half of them won't make it? I search for meaning in the tragedy, but my futile mind finds none. All I can remember in this moment are the words of our sweet Savior:
"Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And [yet] not one of them is forgotten or uncared for in the presence of God. But [even] the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not be struck with fear or seized with alarm; you are of greater worth than many [flocks] of sparrows." -Luke 12:6,7 (AMP)
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