For Wilshire Baptist Church
“Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” Matthew 6:26
Yes, look at the birds . . . but what happens when they’re orphaned?
That was the question we faced last Wednesday night when we stepped outside and found a mother dove lying dead on the porch, no sign of fight or struggle. Inspecting the hanging basket overhead where she had been sitting for days, her nest was empty, but below the nest and down in the fern was a baby bird probably a week old, silent but shivering.
We weren’t sure what to do, but we knew we had to do something. After all, earlier in the day I had people I’d never met before leading me from process to process to get me ready for therapy for a tumor. Like that baby bird, I couldn’t help myself. I needed people smarter than me in medical science to lead the way. I’m helpless without them. Frankly, I’m lost without them.
It was the same with that hatchling — lost without us — but it turned out we needed help even just helping the bird. We put it in a lined box and brought it inside while we called a friend who has some knowledge in these things. She recommended we take the hatchling to Rogers Wildlife Rehabilitation in southeast Dallas County. We took the bird there the next morning and were amazed to find an oasis of tall, lush trees among the warehouses and industrial plants with peacocks, herons and other exotic birds roaming the grounds, standing on the tin roof of the compound and perched in the trees overhead. A woman came out with a clip board, and after she logged in our hatchling and jotted down some notes about how we found it, she took the little one in her bare warm hand and carried it through the gate to nourishment and safety.
That was Thursday, but that was all forgotten on Saturday afternoon. Our small story of helping is so superficial and meaningless juxtaposed to the horror of what happened in Allen, Texas. A bird is saved, but nine people are killed by a madman for reasons that still are unclear, as if any reason would make any sense. The simple joy of saving a bird was quickly overwhelmed by the heartbreak of how we humans hurt each other. If God smiled on our little act of kindness on Wednesday, God no doubt is angered by what we continue to do to each other. We are a miserable, broken species. We’re supposed to be created in the image of God and yet we destroy each other like no other species under creation. How can this be?
Walking out of Wilshire Winds rehearsal on Monday night in preparation for Mother’s Day worship, a hawk swooped overhead and flew away. Looking up we saw another one perched high above on the cross at the top of the steeple. A moment later we watched as it flew across Abrams Road and joined its mate on top of the bell tower at St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic School. Unlike the little bird on our porch, these two don’t need our help. And after what happened in Allen on Saturday, they probably wouldn’t want our help. Why would they? They have natural prey to be sure – part of the circle of life and all that – but they don’t kill their own kind.
Then again, perhaps they are a sign that God is still in control of his creation, even when a part of it is helplessly lost.