There is a bird watching me through the living room window. Or is it watching the television? Its head turns sharply toward me again, then back to the television. For all I know it’s following an outside reflection, but its tiny-eyed glances are rather precise between this large-headed Homo sapiens and the flashing picture machine set opposite the couch.
My wife enters the room and confirms this is the same bird that’s been coming and going every few days, sometimes every day, motioning through the same routine. And I’m curious.
Other birds flutter randomly outside the window all the time. Hummingbirds zip from flower to flower. Robins drop in after a rain shower to pick worms from the ground. Blue Jays squabble with squirrels frolicking too close to the nest. In those moments, I sip my coffee and smile, entertained, but little more.
Oh, I doubt I’ll ever understand the ritual of this silly bird, a mockingbird to be exact, but right now I’m distracted. I’ve lost track of my worries. I’ve forgotten about the to-do list, about my doubts, about my children growing up too fast, and about the television that numbs this reality…
…as opposed to the bird that has brought peace to it.
“…let the birds tell you what’s going on…Isn’t it clear that they all know and agree that God is sovereign, that he holds all things in his hand.” — Job 12:7,9 (The Message)