I know every bird in the mountains, and the creatures of the field are mine.
It is early morning as I step out on the dewy grass in my slippers to fill the bird feeder in our back yard.
It is after all, a morning ritual. A daily reminder to me of His provision. I usually put the coffee on, feed our family pets, then mosey on out with a pitcher of seed for our fine feathered friends outdoors. As I approach the feeder, the waiting birds scatter to the trees. I notice a tuft of feathers in the stones that surround our self made gathering place for the winged. I stand and the thought that I am gazing upon a dead bird enters my mind, arrow shooting sadness straight to the heart; but then I notice his head turning, strained with twisting, jerking to look up at me. I tower over him so close. He stares up at me, still, but for blinking eyes and a million micro movements in milliseconds only the way birds are able to do.
Suddenly he hops away.
One feather seems stuck, he quickly adjusts, and with a few more hops he makes it to the safety of the Holly Bush.
My heart instantly becomes intercessory bird prayer warrior and guardian.
I am watching over all with a hawk eye view and a mother's heart.
"What is your intention here, Blue Jay?"
"Blackbird, you are too close"
Mourning Dove, "I question your motive."
I see nothing but former friends,
who have become feathered villains and One.
My own mom has arrived on the scene.
I look at her, knowing she herself is tender towards all creatures.
I speak, " I don't know if I should take him to the Wildlife Rescue Center or just let him be."
" I think you should just let nature take its course."
I hear God clearly whisper "Trust me" through his chosen vessel.
I know she is right.
I wrestle with my thoughts and wish I could be different.
Why can't I ever just look away?
Why must I see?
Lord, please protect the bird.
I wonder where the neighboring grey cat wanders.
Is he close?
I peek out the kitchen a dozen times.
He's answered my prayers before.
It boils down to this:
Do I trust Him with the small things ?
My mind swims in an ocean filled with a million small details.
I should drown for the details that would overcome me.
We pray. We watch. We trust.
He says He is faithful. Trustworthy and True.
His Word reveals His heart.
He cares about the sparrows.
He cares about me even more than them.
He cares about them.
He cares about what I care about.
He cares about the tiniest of details that burden me.
And you, friend.
Is His own very heart not beating within me?
For in him we live and move and have our being.
As some of your own poets have said, 'We are his offspring.'
Is He not faithful?
Do I believe Him?
If you can’t see God in everything, you won’t see God in anything.
Lord, you are faithful.
You hold all things together by your merciful power.
Every detail, seen and unseen.
You are mighty and meek.
My tender -hearted and gracious God, there is none like You.
whether life or death, joy or sorrow.
You are Lord of all.
I will trust in you.
In Jesus name.
Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?
Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father.
This guest post was originally written for my dear bloggy friend,
Ashley for her blog This Southern Girl's Heart.
*This post is part of The 12 Days of Blog Posts, Weekends and Wednesdays in December!*