The wren family that recently put
my studio clean out on hold for a while finally got the little ones flapping out
the door.
I resumed my decluttering this
week, and I roped Jerry into repairing a cat access door so the birds wouldn’t
be able to come back.
But when the door was down for
repair, the wrens had put the word out in the Wrens Gazette that they’d recently
come into possession of an excellent condo, free for the taking. Someone
else showed up with a leaf in his mouth ready to nestle in.
There I stood in the open doorway
with Mr. Wren and I in a showdown.
I won but barely. He left
begrudgingly and we hurried to close up the condo.
I get it. Who could blame him for
wanting to put his family high in the rafters out of the rain and wind? I hope
he didn’t take it too hard.
We’re all looking for a place of
safety and they’re awfully hard to come by in this old world. It’s tempting to
think if we could just build our nest in a particular location that we’ll be
free from sorrows and pain.
The Psalmist wrote, “Even the
sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may
have her young—a place near your altar” (Psalm 84:3).
Right up
near the altar of God is the only place of enduring safety where our hearts can
find the consolation and solace that truly lasts no matter what else is
happening, because there is no hard times insulation.
And any
thing that appears to be so is only a mirage.
We are all
going to face difficulties. The difference in how we deal with them has to do
with where we’ve made our nest.
I’m embedding
myself right at the altar.
There’s
plenty of room.
Join me, won't you?
