The delicate blue vessel caught my eye. It lay there so still, so patiently quiet in a hushed corner of the porch. Although voiceless, it spoke volumes. It attested to the fact that somewhere, perhaps in our very own maple tree, a new life was preparing to take wing. I called Bethie to my side. She breathlessly cradled the cracked shell in the palm of her hand, and together we marveled that somewhere nearby, a little robin life had just begun.
A few days later, we noticed a saucy robin parent parading across our front yard looking for food. The children took great delight in watching the bird challenge an unlucky worm to a duel. Alas, the lesser fellow lost and was skillfully prepared for the nest as only a bird can prepare a worm. (Emily Dickinson so poetically phrased it for us: "he bit an angle-worm in halves." Yipes!)
I, although not delighted per se in the rather gruesome scene, couldn't unglue my eyes from the drama. For here before me was life happening. Here was creation shouting out (in the form of triumphant chirps) that the Lord is Jehovah Jireh. The One who provides. Yes, the One who provides, even for our little robin.
Standing back, days later, I ponder the weight of it. Of course I acknowledge this and claim to find comfort therein, but does my life really reflect the truth of His Name? Do I worship Him and embrace Him daily knowing with confidence that my Father will provide? It's a promise, you know. He will provide when the bank accounts suffer. He will provide when our health is uncertain. He will provide when jobs are scarce. He will provide. Yes, He will provide.
I believe that I shall keep this little blue shell on my kitchen window sill as a reminder. A reminder that my Lord will provide. For all of His little fledglings.