Derrick Garland Coy

Several years ago, beginning in January of each year, a hummingbird built her nests and nurtured her young in the branches of a potted ficus plant on the sundeck outside our family’s dining room window.

I first saw her when she started building a nest in the front of our house, just outside the window of my study. I felt very honored that she trusted me enough to build her nest just inches away from my window. I was always aware of her presence as she sat on her eggs and quietly watched me work at my computer.

But during one February night that first year, a fierce thunderstorm blew in and deluged the San Fernando Valley region of Southern California where we live. The next morning I went outside and found that the wind and rain had snapped many branches off the trees in our garden and dashed her nest and eggs to the ground.  I felt sorry for my feathered friend and wondered what became of her.  Did she survive? Was it too late for her to rebuild her nest and lay her eggs again?

My answer came the following year. As the rainy season approached in January, I discovered her building a nest in the ficus plant at the back of our house, about two feet from our dining room window. This time she chose her nesting area well, for the ficus sat in a large pot under the eve of our roof overlooking the sundeck, sheltered very nicely from the rain, hail, wind, and the sun.

We watched as, over the weeks, she built her nest, laid her eggs, warmed her chicks, and nurtured them. She watched us as we ate our meals, cleaned up our dishes, had our family times around the dining room table, and let our cat out into the backyard. We watched as her chicks grew, exercised their wings, got too big for their nest, and finally took flight, leaving the nest.

For three years I enjoyed her company each season and, with each empty nest, wondered how she and her offspring would fare over the coming year. Would the young ones make it?  Would she return next year? Were they among the many hummingbirds that drank from our backyard feeder throughout the year?

I felt a very strong affection for her and her family, and I sensed that in some strange way a very special bond had developed between her and our family—a bond that brought her back again and again.

Most of all, she and the many other feathered species that graced us with their presence and songs each day were vivid reminders to me to live each day without anxiety.

For there were times whenever I began to feel anxious and worry about things in life—like money, work, bills, relationships, the future—her chirps or her silent presence would remind me of Jesus when he said:

Don’t worry about things—food, drink, and clothes.  For you already have life and a body—and they are far more important than what to eat and wear.

Look at the birds! They don’t worry about what to eat—they don’t need to sow or reap or store up food—for your heavenly Father feeds them. And you are far more valuable to him than they are. Will all your worries add a single moment to your life?

And why worry about your clothes? Look at the field lilies! They don’t worry about theirs. Yet King Solomon in all his glory was not clothed as beautifully as they. And if God cares so wonderfully for flowers that are here today and gone tomorrow, won’t he more surely care for you, O you of little faith?

So don’t worry at all about having enough food and clothing. Why be like the heathen? For they take pride in all these things and are deeply concerned about them. But your heavenly Father already knows perfectly well that you need them, and he will give them to you if you give him first place in your life and live as he wants you to.

So don’t be anxious about tomorrow. God will take care of your tomorrow too. Live one day at a time. (Matthew 6: 25-34. The Living Bible)

I have found great comfort in those words—especially when my fears and brooding imagination threaten to overwhelm me. There have been many mornings when my fear of facing the day has been quieted and stilled by the sight of birds in our garden and the memory of my special feathered friend who tended her young during those years. They remind me of a heavenly Father who loves and cares for us and promises to take care of not only our tomorrows but also our todays.

So, dear friend, the next time you begin to feel anxious and worry, look at the birds and learn a simple but profound lesson from your heavenly Father on how to live each day without anxiety.

***

Please click to view:

I welcome your comments: