While cooking breakfast one morning this week, I heard the trill of a wren coupled with whimpering warbles that sounded distressed. I glanced out my kitchen window and saw a tiny bird pacing—like the cartoon roadrunner—across my patio. Tail up and feathers fluffed, it continued its pitiful cries while the wren above answered, the panicked trills growing in their intensity. I could only guess the little one had attempted its first solo flight and floundered, caught in a down draft or sudden squall, sending it off course.
I held my breath, knowing the tiny creature needed to act quickly or it would be cat food. For what seemed an eternity, though only a minute or so passed, it trotted around in circles. All the while the continued calls of the wren above filled the area. Then, as if the fledgling made a decision, it leapt onto a patio chair seat, then hopped to the back. The bird wobbled there a few seconds, beak pointed skyward, tail still up. With a burst of energy, it fluttered—I can’t call the act flying—to a branch a few feet away and disappeared. I couldn’t see to discover its fate, but the patio grew suddenly silent. The wren’s trills stopped, as did the whimpers.
I’ve known times in my life when I behaved like that little bird. Blown off course by a disappointment or discouraged when life swerves around a sudden curve, I falter, my whimpers falling on heaven’s ears. But like the wren to her young, God calls to me, offering encouragement through his Word and supporting me through his Spirit, until I turn my face upward and listen.
In Psalm 138:7 says, “Though I walk in the midst of trouble, You (God) will revive me; You will stretch out Your hand against the wrath of my enemies and Your right hand will save me.” God promises to pick me up and carry me through whatever trial I face. I only have to trust.
Later, I related the story of the bird to my husband who, in his sage wisdom, replied, “Maybe it was afraid of heights?”