yesterday it rained. it drizzled. it poured. it drizzled and poored some more. it was mucky and dreary and mostly dark. out the back window, i saw often, a busy red breasted feathered flyer. busy. flittering this way and fluttering that way. twigs long and short. thick and flimsy. mostly scrappy. one at a time, several times in minutes. she, busy building, nesting somewhere very near my kitchen window. i would hear her chipper song through pounding droplets beating the roof over my head and i wondered if she knew how joyful she sounded. i wondered if she was praising the God that i was grumbling at? i wondered if she too went silent, would i hear a chorus of praise echo from the rocks i'd dug from the garden?
today too started dreary. i stepped onto the deck and immediately looked to the window from where i saw the robin flying and there it was. a nest. all put together in less then one short 24 hour day. how in the world? this bird with tiny brain and hollow bones, has put together a master piece of wood and grass and jigsawed them into a cradle of shelter strong and safe enough to train up another legacy, another generation. snuggled in behind a light and before the house, one of the most uniquely beautiful reminders of all that is stored up for a treasure that she will one soon day birth and train up. treasure stored up.
my eyes rest on the deck below and catch sight of another nest. she has made two. perhaps a decoy? one that appears to be her home so as to lure the sparrow and blue jay away from her young? her home insurance? her health insurance for her babies? she has made two nest. stored up treasures of wood and grass and build for her family and safe haven.
stored up treasure.
what am i storing up? where do i lay my twigs and grass and for whom do i weave security as strong as hers? my own young running through my own nest and i am wondering how often do they hear me whistle praise as i go about my day? how often to do i remember they are not my young but His. given me to point to Him on high. do i store up for myself and provide purses that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will not be exhausted, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. for where my treasure is, there my heart will be also. (luke 12:33b-34)
knowing i try and trying is not enough, i am reminded that i will never be enough and grace is deep and i am drowning. what am i storing and for whom? for what do i toil? for whom do i toil for? do i sing throughout my day praising He who is to be praised as i go about my work given me, by He who ask for my all? a work set to the soundtrack of praise. work given me by He who says that i must die so that i may live. a daily dying. a moment by moment death of oneself and i am strong and my will full flesh is more then i should ever let it be. it's almost enough to be discouraged but i remember that early i must rise so that early i must fall into the grave to be covered by Grace and blood that washes the dirtiest clean.
not once did i see the robin stop to sigh. she didn't stop to chat with a feathered sister, another whose belly is growing with offspring, to talk about all the building she had to do today before the sun went down. she went about her work of building. singing all the way, and through the rain!
i wonder... why is my heart not light as her small frail body that flies between pounding droplets thrown from a heavy sky and she is not tired? she is not weary? she, who sleeps standing up?
it's as if she has no inner struggle. no earthly flesh. no desire of her own to drag her in another direction. is she not part of this fallen world? is it not true that to this day the lion cannot lay by the lamb? though i want to do good, evil is right there with me. for in my inner being i delight in God's law; but i see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members. what a wretch i am! who will rescue me from the body of death? thanks be to God-through Jesus Christ our Lord! (romans 7:23-25)
swimming in Grace like the busy robin flying through a down poor, i remember that i am led by the Spirit of God and i am a daughter of God. for i did not receive a spirit that makes me a slave again to fear, but i received the Spirit of daughtership. and by Him i cry, Abba! Father! the Spirit himself testifies with my spirit that i am God's child, now if i am a child, then an heir-heir of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed i share in his sufferings in order that i may also share in his glory. (roman 8: 13-17)
for once i see this nest as not the reminder of all that i fail in. not a reminder of storing up treasure and where and what do i store and for whom? no longer do i hear her joyful singing and feel bad that it wasn't me too, singing in the rain. i see her nest and it looks like a crown of victory over my failures and my struggles and unworthiness. a rough a messy crown, much like my rough and messy life, but round and strong nonetheless. royal and poised, built behind the light and it is He that goes before me, to prepare a place for me. she built that nest because the Creator has spoken in into the her ear and she simply obeyed without worry she'd fail. she simply obeyed and went about her business. her business for the King.
i stand tall on my feet now, for i am daughter of the King who will reign victorious over all that i fail at, over all that i triumph over through Him. her nest on the back deck, a royal reminder that one day i will have crowns to throw at His feet and that this day, while very imperfect and full of pain will one day melt into an eternity of days full of His Glorious reign over all that is imperfect and painful and all my tears are wiped away. then all my tears are wiped away. and i hear chirping from the back deck, a song of praise that i too sing.