A Robin Called Sparrow

So, there I was, out for a mow, when I saw the quintessential token of spring - a blue robin’s egg lying on the grass. Eh. I kept mowing; I mowed right over it. After all, how many of these half shells had I seen in my lifetime? - Plenty. That’s how many.

Fast forward a few freshly mowed lanes, and I glanced over my shoulder to see something wriggling and hanging out of what was left of the blue shell I’d previously mown over - to my utter shock and dismay. I ran over a baby bird?! My heart sank. I immediately left the mower to go check out the naked wiggling creature.

As I picked up the newly hatched robin and examined it, I realized there was nothing wrong with the baby. Not a thing. Not a scratch. No sign that I had clipped its wings mowing over it. Nothing. I was elated. And also at a total loss as to what to do next. I knew positively 0 about caring for a newly hatched bird, and I still had half a yard to mow.

My son was watching Pink Panther inside. I flung open the door and informed him that I had a task of the utmost importance for him. Half-worried, half-intrigued, he agreed to hold the baby robin and keep it warm while I finished the mowing. Okay, so I did know it needed to stay warm. I did not, however, know how I was going to feed it.

After mowing, I ran inside to see how the wee creature was doing. Still alive. Nice and warm. But my son was more than ready to relinquish his duty to me. He looked at me like a brand new father holding a newborn - in awe but totally lost. I quickly asked Chat GPT how to feed the hatchling in a pinch. One thing I’ll say for Chat, it provides instant gratification for our many questions, doesn’t it? Some oat flour, egg, and water later, I had a workable substance on a petite nail file to feed the lucky little robin.

Sovereignty

My kids had to call it Lucky, of course. And that’s fair. It was my first thought too after realizing the hatchling survived my ignorance of its presence while mowing. Still, the more I mulled it over, the more I thought about God’s sovereignty. Perhaps, that’s because that was the sermon subject the Sunday before at church. I toyed with other names for the bird after a friend sent a reminder of verses about birds to me. Popular verses, I admit, but no less impactful in the moment. I renamed the bird Sparrow: “And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows” (Luke 12:7).

I loved that little bird. I did nothing to get it - in fact, I should not have gotten it! It was a miracle it survived my ignorance. Still, it awakened that maternal side of me. It also reminded me how much work a newborn was - hatchling or human! The first night was very precarious. How to get sleep and not kill the hatchling now dependent upon us for its survival. This was a true dilemma. At one point in the night, after falling asleep with Lucky Sparrow in my hands, I woke to find my hands empty and my heart racing. I had no idea where the little one was, it was dark, and dog on the floor next to me did not make me feel any better. I slowly and carefully got up, searching the darkness, the blankets, the chair, the floor —

Lucky Sparrow. He was on the floor. A little chilly but still with us. I felt awful but breathed a sigh of relief. After that, I took care to heat a rice sock and keep him in a small plastic bin at night - so we could both survive. That was twice the poor hatchling should have probably died.

Well, we managed to keep Lucky Sparrow alive for three days. The first time he pooped, I was thrilled. Talk about a throwback to mothering my own infants! My own glee in the little hatchling’s survival and milestones astounded even me. By the third day, I was calling him Fraggle-Rock Sparrow because of the mess of downy feathers on his head. When I woke the morning of the third day to find my little Lucky Fraggle-Rock Sparrow dead and cold, my heart sank…

What was the point, after all? - After all of that work, what was the point? After he survived two prior brushes with death, what was the point? As I mourned a relational human loss at the same time, these questions began to hit hard and nearer my own hurts than I first realized…

What was the point of that relationship, if it was only to end? What was the point of that life cut short in the end? These are not uncommon questions. I’ve known many who have wrestled with them long before me.

Joy

Something just clicked for me as I stood looking at the little hatchling that had only been part of our lives for three days. I realized that this crazy experience, that fragile little bird I received by pure sovereign-rain, had in those three short days brought me such joy and delight. I had not gone looking for a bird to feed. In fact, I called the Game and Fish because Chat told me it was illegal to keep said-birdie. (No one called me back - surprise, surprise. LOL) Little Lucky Sparrow should have been dead twice before he did die for that matter! That hatchling survived on sheer grace, God’s sovereignty - if we take Him at His word that He watches over the sparrows of the world, and our good pleasure (joy) in watching over it. And while it may have seemed cut short, there was not one moment Lucky Sparrow was in our company that was wasted.

Oh, you’re over-spiritualizing some happenstance, Mandy. Well, I understand. Even so, I know people who see demons behind every bush… I’m more interested in permitting space and awareness of God’s sovereignty in the dealings of my life. I’ve lived under the assumptions of happenstance in the past: That way left me very angry.

Did you know that the Bible says we were created for God’s “good pleasure”? That’s it. Yep. That’s what it says. Made because He wanted to make us. Like a painter with a canvas, a potter with some clay. He enjoys us — Well, sometimes anyway. ;-)

I did not make Lucky Sparrow, but I was sure grateful for the opportunity to enjoy caring for that little robin. And in remembering God’s sovereignty, I was able to enjoy it for what it was — three days of surprises, learning, reminders, and joy. I was able to accept the temporary and fleeting nature of the occurrence without undermining its significance to me.

I’ve been guilty of it too. Guilty of looking back at certain parts of my life, certain relationships, and thinking, “What a waste” and wondering what was the point….

Sometimes the point is simply in enjoying the moment God gave you, recognizing it for what it was, and then letting go - giving it back to the Creator.

“For what gives you the right to make such a judgment? What do you have that God hasn’t given you? And if everything you have is from God, why boast as though it were not a gift?” — 1 Corinthians 4:7

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