Did I already tell you about my experiences with birds years ago?

Back in 2017 I did write a bit about this. But that was way before all hell had broken loose.

“His days were full of nights.” ― Harold Hoefle

Years ago I was having one of those mid-life crises. Except I’d had several already, thought I was done with that.  And by the way, I was past mid-life, wasn’t I? A very familiar statement from one of Jesus’ teachings fell on me just when I needed it. Houston native Cynthia Clawson sings a rendition of “His Eye is on the Sparrow” that is just incredible and worth a listen.

In my mind, Jesus is sitting in the market that has been set up in the Temple to sell animals for people to buy for sacrifices. He points to the sparrows. These are the cheapest offerings one can purchase. He draws his followers attention to these least important creatures.

Look at the birds in the sky. They do not store food for winter. They don’t plant gardens. They do not sow or reap—and yet, they are always fed because your heavenly Father feeds them. And you are even more precious to Him than a beautiful bird. If He looks after them, of course He will look after you. (Matthew 6:26)

What fell on me at that hard time in my life was that statement, “consider the birds…” Over the next eighteen months or so, birds started showing up right in front of me. They would greet me at the front door, be in my house, looking in the window, and even singing very loud outside my bedroom to wake me up. It wasn’t so much the birds themselves, but the reminder they carried with them, “…of course he will look after you.”

When I had my first bird encounter the only real troubles I was facing was figuring out my place at work. I’ve got a terrible messiah complex, always thinking I’m on a big mission. One day at work my mission came crashing down and the realization that I was just spending my days at a job set in. That was when these encounters started. Don’t worry about your misunderstanding about work or how you are treated here, “…of course he will look after you.”

Then one day, the birds went away. Now, tonight, years later, I watched the Carolina Chickadees eating from the seeds I had set out for them in the cool evening breeze. They fly in fast, small and quick little birds. The seeds are too big. They dart up to a nearby branch, hold the seed in their feet and work to peel the husk off the seed.

I’m only putting out safflower seeds because the squirrels won’t eat them. The squirrels and I have our own pitched battle taking place. We are now at a standoff.

In the early Spring I will see pairs of cardinals when they’re courting, the male will offer a seed to his date. They don’t do it after they’ve gotten engaged. It’s purely a mating behavior. Typically, the red birds have a beautiful song. While this courting is taking place, I’ve watched other males looking on from a distance with that dejected sound in in their song. Maybe I’m reading too much into this?

The only other birds that eat these seeds are big fat doves. They plop down in the middle of the dish and fill up. Before the sun sets, in the quiet of the day my back garden is a place of escape. These early evenings are few in Houston. We run outside and enjoy them. Before the mosquitos invade.

“When the times are a crucible, when the air is full of crisis, those who are the most themselves are the victims.” ― Gregory Maguire

So much was to come into my life in the days since those first encounters with the birds.

That period of time when I saw those birds so near, it helped me get ready for what was to come. It helped me to know for sure that God would love and care for us just as he does for the insignificant birds.

Cancer soon arrived. My wife fought like a hero in a fairy tale for several years. She lived one day at a time and was able to welcome her first grandchild. Then we suffered through hospice for that summer. A birdfeeder was hung at the window. We were all reminded every day of God’s presence, by the birds but mostly by the people who loved us. She died five years ago. I was numb inside and out. But planted deep inside me was, “…of course he will look after you.”

“Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.” ― Edna St. Vincent Millay

Soon after that disaster, my children kidnapped my grandkids and moved away, leaving me here really alone. There was no appropriate paperwork filled out, no committee consulted, no vote taken. They just up and left. As I watch my grandchildren grow up over Zoom calls and dwindling in-person visits, I mourn their loss each day. It’s like a slow starvation. I have to work hard to make sure I’m hanging on to the right life raft and when I hear a bird sing, know that,  “…of course he will look after you.”

After almost thirty years as a professor at the university, I was fired one day. No longer of any use. It took just two minutes over the phone by a stranger reading a script from a card. Feels like the third leg of my stool has been knocked out. How many legs have I got left before teetering over? This blow has many layers of catastrophe that keep pouring over me. But, when I sit in the back or look at all the bird images in my house, it’s right there, “…of course he will look after you.”

I’m now trying to figure out a mysterious future. Friends are asking, what will you do now? Some get a baffled look on their face when I tell them, I’m just waiting on what God has planned, “…of course he will look after you.”

I’m planning to sell my house, jam packed with memories. Slowly but surely I’m passing on my two libraries (work and home). Right now I’m trying to lose as much as I can. Including fourteen birdhouses that we collected and were given to us since 2017. All of this is loss as well. Leaving behind and passing on. Most of my identity and most of my possessions. My place, literal and figurative, in the world – all going away. I don’t feel any fear, anger or anxiety. There’s just a lot all at once. Those birds seemed to have gotten me ready for these mysterious twists and turns in the river, “…of course he will look after you.”

“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.” ― William Shakespeare

Back in 2017 when I wrote on here about my bird story, I had no idea all that was around the corners. I don’t believe that God is ever caught by surprise. Those birds and their memory reminded me that God is going to continue to care for me – one way or the other. I was having an angry fit the other evening. I passed by the window and there was a big blue jay peering in at me. I had to stop and get ahold of myself. This situation was better out of my turmoil filled spirit and in God’s hands, “…of course he will look after you.”

People fumble the ball all the time, myself included. In my experience, God hasn’t ever done that to me. He’s faithfully been with me, looking after me, each and every step I take.

“But the time is coming—indeed it’s here now—when you will be scattered, each one going his own way, leaving me alone. Yet I am not alone because the Father is with me.  I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.”  – Jesus (John 16:32-33)