Richard Hall posts about a robin that wound up in England.
Bird watchers flocked to see it.
A sparrow-hawk showed up and had lunch.
End of story.
A robin participated in an event in my life.
Someone I loved more than life itself had just been diagnosed with cancer.
The surgery was quick and critical, recovery tenuous, complications life-draining.
It was spring.
The robin gave that person great joy as they struggled to recover and regain their life.
The bird had built her nest a bit low on the property and every morning and evening, she sat on the well and sang. She fed right outside the kitchen window in the rich soil around the well cover.
She gave my friend hope and a way to look through terrible pain.
They became friends of sorts and there is no way to explain that.
As I came and went every day I checked her nest.
Soon there were four babies.
Damn it.
I remember that painful slow walk with my friend out to look at the hatchlings when they were born and the simple, simple joy.
One morning before light, I stopped by their tree on my way to work.
The nest was bloody and empty.
All that was left was a ripped piece of the mothers wing.
I scared myself with what happened next.
I went into a rage.
Out in the dawning I grabbed that mangled robin wing, walked into the woods and yelled, from a place deep in my gut and past the rational.
I yelled at the mother robin for being so stupid and building her nest too low.
I yelled at her because she had mattered.
I yelled about death.
I yelled at God.
I took that bloody wing and threw it as far as I could into a bog.
It was an awful day.
I decided in my cowardness to wait to see if my friend would notice the robin and her babes were gone.
I couldn’t be the one to bring even small sad news to a dying friend who wanted to live.
Her lack of presence was noticed before evening.
I didn’t tell what I knew.
Instead I went along with the musings of whys and where, with pictures of that empty nest and mutilated wing running through my head.
I remained angry for a long long time.
Not long after, my friend died too.
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Ouch, Bene. That is a painful story. It’s amazing how the smallest things can come to hold such tremendous signifigance, isn’t it?
We recently had a young bird fly into our window at the house. We tried to help it, but it ended up not surviving a day. My children were very disappointed, as was I. But I don’t know what I would have done had the poor defenseless thing been killed by a cat or dog or other creature. I probably would have been weak and reacted much like you did, and that’s without the added significance of your friend’s robin. Nevertheless, it’s a very powerful story. Thank you for telling it.
I don’t think B.D. reaction was weak. Rage about injustice isn’t weakness.
Good story Bene. We had a robin build a nest in a flower box right on our porch. It was so cool for the kids to walk over and see the eggs, and to watch how the robins would care for the baby birds. They grew a LOT each day. We went out of town for a weekend, and when we returned everybody was gone, except a part of one of the babies. It was really disappointing. I guess a cat got them, we’ll never know.
But I can sense your loss, because there’s something miraculous about it all. : )
I’m praying for you B.
Hi Bene,
Not long after Dad’s accident last year a mother duck built a nest on the ground near Mom & Dad’s house. It was a strange place to build it as it was quite a distance to the creek. Every day Mom would come home from the hospital to check the nest and see if the eggs hatched. I was sure that it was a sign from God of his presence with us through such a difficult time. About 7 to 10 days after the nest had been built Mom checked one day to find feathers and broken eggs, likely the work of a racoon. Mom cried. When she told me, I cried. It was as if God had failed us.
In hindsight I still feel very sad when I think about the whole thing. As I look back now, however, I realize that the broken eggs were a more appropriate analogy of our lives. There was and is no promise that everything will be well and whole and new again in this life.
On Monday of this week I saw Dad walk 3 steps using his walker. It is the first time I have seen him walk since May. The brokenness of his accident remains with us yet God has not abandonned us. Life is a difficult mix sometimes isn’t it?
Bene, one of my friends who is currently abroad just heard that a friend from uni died in a car crash a few days ago. He was 29 years old. She told me she was angry at God for letting it happen, so angry that she didn’t even want to talk to Him anymore. At the same time she became fearful that the people she loves may be taken from her at any time… it made her realise the unpredictability and fragility of life. I’ve never experienced the death of someone close to me, so I cannot relate… getting her emails, hearing her pain and anger and frustration, watching her go through that crisis of faith — I didn’t even know what to say. I still don’t.
God does use nature and it’s creatures to teach us, doesn’t He?
I’m grateful for that particular robin.
She was very much a reminder we live in a broken and fragile world,and that we aren’t as in control as we think we are.
She was a visible and beautiful lesson in our lives at that time.
God is awake.