Feed the Birds

I was given a bird feeder by some dear friends and have tried to honor their generosity by keeping it filled. It hangs outside my studio, and I delight in the birds, chip monks, and squirrels that feast daily.

Recently, I was away for a week and the birdfeeder was empty when I returned. I quickly replenished it and sat on the to see how long it would take for the birds to return. Soon, a bird landed on a nearby tree and looked over at the feeder. Then he or she hopped to a branch closer before taking the leap to the feeder itself, checking out the new supply, and flying off again. Within ten minutes the cocktail party I’d grown to love returned and I marveled at how quickly the word had spread drawing others back to the sumptuous feast I had prepared.

I don’t consider myself an evangelical, although I am enthusiastic about my faith. As imperfect as it is, I possess a longing for God that runs deep within me.  As flawed as I am, I can’t help but return each morning and try again.  I suppose, like the birds before me, I’m hungry and search for food every morning. On those mornings when I find something to eat, I’m profoundly grateful. Sometimes I find it in a sunrise, or the sound of the wind causing the trees to sway. Often, I find it it in one the meditation books I read while sipping my cherished coffee. When I find it, though, I always want to run and tell others. I guess that’s why I began writing these Brushstrokes, and trying to write a novel.

I guess I’m just like the birds in front of me this morning. St. Francis would be proud!

Couldn’t resist: (Message seems particularly appropriate these days) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XHrRxQVUFN4