A Little Bird Told Me…
| A Little Bird Told Me… |
“Oh, there you are, Jack,” I said as I looked up from planting a geranium.
“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you for awhile and I was wondering about you,” I said as I washed off my hands with the hose and dried them on a rag. I walked toward the bench to rest and visit with Jack for a while. I had left my tea and toast on the table next to the bench that I had brought out for breakfast. “Care for some toast, Jack?” I asked as I offered to share with him. I knew that Jack loved almost any kind of bread and he did not hesitate to join me. He seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to knowing when I was having a bite to eat. At any rate, once Jack finished his bread he was content to sit and listen to whatever I had to say with very little comment and he seemed to simply enjoy my company. He didn’t appear to be a bit anxious about anything. It occurred to me that Jack seemed to have perfected the art of listening, which is something that a lot of people could learn from him. He just kept looking at me while moving his head now and then as if to show that he was paying attention. I try to keep an eye on Jack because he was orphaned at an early age. Since I began looking out for him he has lived a fairly sheltered life. He doesn’t really know about the threats that are out there in the world. After all, he is still just a teenager and has a lot to learn but like most teens he is very independent and doesn’t think about the dangers that abound around him. I had a nice conversation with Jack and I cautioned him once again about the perils that exist in his world but he continued to walk around the patio completely unconcerned until the dog came over and then he decided to join me on the bench again. Perhaps Jack is learning to be cautious after all, I thought. I’ve learned a lot from Jack, too. He just takes one day at a time and appears to be content to believe that all of his needs will be met. He trusts that there will always be something to eat one way or another, whether it’s food he has to find himself or a bit of bread that is shared with him. You see, Jack is a little bird. I rescued him from certain death when the cat discovered him under the propane tank. I took care of him until he had feathers and was old enough to fly. Now he flies wherever he wants and usually soars in for a landing on my outstretched hand whenever I call his name. He loves to splash in the homemade birdbath that I contrived from an old platter and some stones. Jack has pretty much learned to make his own way in life now and manages to find food that is generously provided to him by our heavenly Father. He doesn’t worry about anything. Jack seems to have a good life. How do I know? A little bird told me. “Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, |
