This Birdbrain

Yesterday my neighbor asked us if we wanted to take care of a baby mockingbird who had fallen out of the nest in her yard. Well, why not? We took a box over and collected the birdie from under a prickly bush.

Jane attempted to feed him a live worm. No go. He was quaking in fear. We tried birdseed, a fresh garden tomato and a snail. He kept his beak tight as if he already had been warned that humans might try to poison his supper. He was untrusting and I don't blaim him. There are some spiritual parrallels between the bird and me. I think I am wary of the good gifts from above when they aren't served how I expect them to be. Why can't I grasp that God delights in satisfying his birdies' souls with the richest of fare? He never makes mistakes. He invites us to come drink living water and feast on the best in Isaiah 55. Do I believe His Word, or don't I? Sometimes I act like the rescued baby bird and want independence rather than union with my Rescuer.

Considering my own rebellious streak, it shouldn't have surprised me that the baby bird started a-squawking and hopped right out of the safety of his box. That's when we decided we couldn't tame a wild bird, and he preferred to be outside under the prickly bush where maybe his mother would come back and find him. What touched me most is that my husband consoled the girls by reminding them that God cares for the sparrows. Therefore, you can assume that mockingbirds and birdbrains, alike, are safe in God's keeping.