Poop on a Porch

It's days later and the drama that played out on my porch with that little dove is a memory, and all I have to show for it is one downey feather in the flower bed, and teeny, tiny piles of birdy doo on my steps. Fortunately, the spiritual lessons of my natural encounter linger, long after the birds have flown.

I wonder if there were any sophisticated thoughts in that little birdie's head when he was waiting on the porch steps, waiting for his mother. I tend to personify and have to assume there was emotion; fear, anxiety maybe. Perhaps nothing. I, as a woman, tend to attribute emotions and see intent in my husbands words, or silence that, admittedly misses the mark, entirely.

Sometimes I even miss by a mile or two. We're talking the arrow missing the target completely, and skewering the guy in charge of the archery range, bad. I know, I KNOW! It's hard to believe. ME, misinterpreting my husband's thoughts, words and actions.

Take this little scenario, which actually happened. I had the girls, at the end of a very long day, and they were fussing in their respective jumperoo and exersaucer while I was trying to make dinner. At this time of day, I tend to do a juggling act worthy of a circus performer. I try and keep the kids from totally melting down, and also attempt to put something healthy and delicious in the oven that we can eat later at night after the girls are in bed.

I see through the living room window that my husband has pulled up to the curb in front of the house. He is chatting on his hands-free device, I assume with a friend or somebody from work, for work purposes. I tell the girls "Yay!!!! Daddy's home!" I think to myself. "Thank you Lord! Relief." He'll be right in, he'll entertain the girls and stop them from crying, while I finish preparing dinner. The girls had been whining and fussing, and now crying for about an hour. It's too close to bedtime to let them nap. I clench my jaw and keep working on dinner, with greater fervor. Jeff does not appear.

It's approaching 6:25 pm. And that's when I start living in the flesh. I am stewing in my own juices. Where IS he? I look through the window and he's still chatting in the car. He's smiling...while I slave away in the kitchen, making HIS dinner, to the song of the twin sirens. I go out on the porch and attempt to catch his eye with my glare that says, "Come ON! What are you DOING?" It's been a half-hour! How can that call possibly more important than your family? More important than getting in here and doing your JOB (aka meeting your wife's expectations). He waves briefly, dismissively, and keeps on talking. I go back inside to steam.

Long story short. We had "loud fellowship" over him being late and coming in at the last possible minute before bedtime. He was talking to a friend and business associate about a sales opportunity in said friend's business, and a potential side job for my husband. Jeff was concentrating on providing for his family, so was I, just in different ways.  We were seeing the situation from two different ways, but striving towards the same goal: being there for our children, just like that mama bird.

Baby Dove

God spoke to me today, via the inaugural flight lesson of a baby dove. I was coming back from a playdate, a carseat in each hand, approaching the porch and there she was, so small and helpless, a baby dove, sitting on a step. She looked so forlorn and out of place. She had pooped a couple of times in fear, and was trying to make herself very small as I stopped and stared.

I have learned that parents don't ever let their babies stray far from their watchful eyes, so I looked up, hoping to find her mother, and there she was, strained neck and wide-eyed, looking down at me. She must have been wondering how her baby was doing, knowing that I was walking towards her position, and wondering if I had seen her and what I would do when I saw her there. The front porch roof was obscurring her view. I decided to walk around to the back door and see if mommy would join her baby on the step.

I came back out and mommy had moved down to the second floor, but she was still keeping her distance. I looked at her baby, and she was just sitting there, waiting for help to come. She didn't know what else to do, so she hunkered down and was waiting for her mother to come, because that's what moms do. That's what her mother had done as long as this little bird had been alive. Mommy would come.

I started to doubt that this was a baby, and imagined it was the other bird's injured mate. I approached the bird on the step, hoping to see it move around to know it wasn't injured and it got up and walked a few nervous steps. Backing away, I relied on past nature lessons and left the baby alone, because this WAS a baby, knowing that was the only chance it had for the parent to return to it. If I intervened, it would only end badly.

I called my husband and asked him to come in the back door this evening, informing him about the wildlife drama unfolding on our front steps. He chuckled quietly and agreed to duck in the back door. He was the sole witness to the exciting conclusion.

When Jeff got home, he saw the mother bird and her baby on the step. The baby was pecking at the mother around the face, looking for some food or affection. 

Later on, before I knew he had seen them reunited, I checked to see if our front step was still occupied and mother and baby had gone. Nature had taken it's course, without any help from me.

Looking for some spiritual signficance in these moments of time between a mother and her baby, and a human and nature, I contemplated God's omnicient care of his creation. Why is it that we assume we know better than the God of the universe, or that we may dare to tell him what's best for our lives? Our job is wait and to marvel at what unfolds before our marvelling eyes.

For Their Future

I was holding my daughter Shannon this morning and wondering what she will do when she grows up. I'm hoping that she and her sister Rory will do better than their mom and dad. I pray they aren't saddled with debt, that they have successful jobs and that they have Christlike hearts. I want my girls to walk with the Lord, and know that he holds them in his hands.

Optimism v. Pessimism

Optimism (O): Only one twin has a cold.
Pessimism (P): So far! It's only a matter of time before the other one gets it too.

O: One twin is napping peacefully.
P: Emphasis on ONE. The other one is still awake which means no nap for Mommy. You KNOW we'll have to go up there at least once after they're both finally up there.

P: I can't remember the last time I went #2. I probably can't remember because I'm so sleep deprived.
5 minutes later
O: You just went to the bathroom, and as an added bonus, you weren't even constipated.
P: Shut up.

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