That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life …..Matthew 6:25
BAM! There he is again. It’s a common sound at our house in early spring. The male robins are making their presence known. It’s a well-known fact that when male birds see their reflection during mating season, they will likely attack the perceived intruder. Now Ken says that the spring-cleaned glass is just a tempting invitation into our living room, but whatever his reason, the robin certainly gets our attention when he bags against the glass. So far, there have been no broken windows, but we’ve seen a few birds walking funny and probably nursing a giant headache.
We’ve always been told that robins go away for the winter and that when they return, we can count on spring being just around the corner.
It is true, they are somewhat migratory, but many stay flocked together in nearby wooded areas where they are able to forage for winter’s treasure trove of dried berries and seeds. When the temperature hits the upper thirties, they emerge again, making people think they’ve traveled a long way for a warmer winter season. In truth, they handle the cold quite well and that upper-thirties temperature motivates their favorite food to spring into action. Robins favor earthworms over just about anything in your yard so if your soil supports earthworms, the robins will be there too.
Once the hunt for worms begins, the robin turns its thoughts to nesting and when mates have been chosen, three to five eggs are laid in a nest made of mud, grass, and sticks. They love the long slender dried daylily leaves left in my beds from the previous summer. They nest in very open areas, yet while the trees are still bare, they seem to favor that small, protected area just above our downspouts. We’d much rather they nest in the trees where they belong and our yard has ample trees, so Ken tears down the nests almost daily to keep them from laying eggs there. He doesn’t want to disturb the nest once eggs are laid so he must be persistent to stay ahead of the robins.
They eventually get the message, head for the trees and we’ll have several nests during the season for each adult pair will raise two or three broods and they don’t re-use a nest. Eggs hatch in fourteen days and the offspring will fledge in another fourteen days, though a little help from mom and dad is still appreciated. The female bird tends the babies while the dad keeps a close watch on the skies for predators who will gladly make a meal of the baby robins and sometimes even the adult birds become prey to a larger bird. The male and female robin will remain monogamous for the summer season and, because robins often return to a successful breeding ground, sometimes they remain together for another summer. They do not, however, mate for life. While some birds may live to a ripe old age, in general, the population of a flock turns over about every six years.
Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your lives? Matthew 6:26
So why all this talk about robins? Well, robins act instinctually and don’t spend their time worrying about “things.” When the earth is
warm enough for worms to become active, instinct kicks in and the robins begin their search for food. God has provided berries and seeds for them to survive the cold winter and now he beckons them to the fresh meat that slithers underground. He provides nesting material and new babies to care for as soon as a breath of spring arrives. And the adult robins, well, they just keep doing what robins have always done. So why can’t we take a lesson from them? Why do we continue to worry about everything? Where is our faith in the one who created us in His own image?
Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need.
Matthew 6:33
Maple syrup is a major export for our New England states and, while Vermont is most closely associated with its production, other states look forward to late winter as the birth of a new sugaring season. It’s a tradition that dates back to colonial settlement.
But we have a personal source we can tap for strength and comfort whenever we need. The only rules are that we try to live as He has instructed us to live and keep in touch with Him on a regular basis. He’ll provide the tools to get the job done if it’s a job that He is asking us to do.
There is one bridge that doesn’t frighten me. It gives me comfort and hope. That bridge is named Jesus. Before His birth, no one could speak to God except the holy men, the priests. But on that day when Jesus died, the curtain between God and man was torn in half, no more intercessors were needed. We were offered a one-on-one relationship, conversations on a first-name basis. It’s a long and sometimes tumultuous journey through this life and we sometimes lose our way.
, you say, in January? And there she was, barely visible beneath the bed of leaf mulch we’d provided in late fall. The dark green spotted leaves, leathery in appearance and harsh to the touch because of the spikes at the edges of each leaf, were still alive, though scorched and wind-tattered. Under their protection, I found the object of my search, a cluster of buds waiting to open. They’re sturdy buds, frail bits of fluff wouldn’t stand a chance in our Missouri winters. But she has remarkable capabilities, much like those of her namesake.
The Lenten Rose has no scientific relationship to the rose. It is, however, related to the buttercup, tracing its roots, pardon the pun, to the genus Helleborus, containing about twenty species in the family Ranunculaceae. In its native Turkey, it could be found growing in more shaded areas and established into large clumps. Here in Missouri, it likes shaded to partly shaded ground with protection from harsh winter weather, in which case it will retain some or all of its dark green leaf color year-round. If it is not protected or our winter is particularly harsh causing its leaves to die back, its perennial traits will bring it back again as spring warms the air.
Being the outdoor enthusiasts we are, Ken and I love to make our yard attractive to lots of critters. That means planting perennials, shrubs, and trees that will provide food and habitat as well as winter cover. It also means providing food during harsh winter weather. Our oaks provide lots of acorns for squirrels and other critters who find their well-hidden stashes. Our holly bushes create a safe place for birds and mammals to hide under and within. And when the snow falls, we keep a couple of bird feeders full as well as provide suet. We feel blessed when bright flashes of red indicate the cardinals have found our smorgasbord of seeds. The cute little nuthatches entertain us with their trumpet-like call as they work the tree bark from the top down. They always work upside down to separate insects from the bark. Then there are the juncos who gather in good-sized numbers on the ground at the base of the feeding area and engage in clean-up duty. In between, we entertain various finches, wrens, and sparrows. In recent years, a few doves have accepted the invitation to a hearty meal.
We, humans, do a lot of planning. I am famous for my planning skills….well, I call it skill. Most of my family sees it as worrying. Does it really matter how we describe it? We plan because we are concerned that things won’t turn out the way we want them to unless we make a long to-do list. And if by chance we are known for spontaneity, then often we are considered scatter-brained or frivolous. I think that planners like myself can learn a lot from Joseph, the same Joseph who, just a few short weeks ago, starred in our production of the Nativity.
plan ahead. Last week, Ken and I had to face some changes in our plans. Late each January, we join a friend of ours in her timeshare cabin at Big Cedar Wilderness Club, a resort situated adjacent to Big Cedar Lodge, and share all amenities. Last year we didn’t get to go because of COVID so this year’s trip meant a lot to us. We’d had no vacation for two years and only a few short camping trips during the pandemic. This venture was a really big deal! We were supposed to have spent 12 days lounging by the fire, pigging out on comfort food, and hiking the surrounding area to burn off all those vacation calories, but old man winter posed a serious threat to our ability to return home on checkout day. So, even though we fought the idea of leaving early, it seemed prudent to do exactly that. We began packing all our belongings on a 66º day in anticipation of ice, sleet, and snow that was forecast to begin in about 36 hours. Only in Missouri! Were we happy with our decision? Absolutely not! But safety took priority and we arrived home with a few hours to pick up essentials for storm prep, unpack and settle in before the winter fun began.
As I wrote, during the storm, we were grateful for a warm, cozy home and plenty to eat. We could enjoy the beauty of the snow from indoors and not fret over experiences missed because our plans were changed. Does this event rival the trials that Joseph faced? Of course not, but it does illustrate how God’s intervention often interrupts our lives. Yes, I’ve experienced the confusion of an unplanned pregnancy and we, as a couple, have known the discouragement of a job loss and the nightmare of relocation thirteen hundred miles away in order to secure a new work opportunity. We’ve also learned to deal with a health diagnosis that left us wondering how we would manage. But all these events were just detours from the laborious plans we had made, detours that God knew about long before they occurred. He was always prepared to lead us through those valleys.
vegetables for canning. You see, we had this old pressure cooker that Mom wasn’t sure she really trusted, so when the contents had been added and the cooker was building up the necessary steam to properly cook the vegetables, I was admonished to leave the room, just in case. I really didn’t know what “just in case” meant until one day when the valve blew off that pressure cooker and we spent most of our day cleaning up the resulting mess. Believe me, I was very glad Mom had advised me well. Had I not obeyed, I could have been badly burned or cut by flying glass. That was the last time we ever used a pressure cooker in that kitchen. As a matter of fact, I still have a healthy enough respect for them that I haven’t been willing to try the newer and, supposedly, much safer models.
read vivid stories and watched enchanting movies in which steamboats huffed and puffed their way up and down the mighty Mississippi and steam locomotives traversed our nation at speeds unheard of before their invention. I’ve ridden the existing narrow gauge railways of the west through incredible gorges and across seemingly never-ending plains. Perhaps my eye even caught a glimpse of one of those bandits from the past. I reveled in the thrill of seeing that huge cloud of steam billowing into the air when the engine needed to release her pressure. The excitement of climbing aboard a steam-powered train has never left me, though it has been a few years since my last venture.
wandered through housewares at Walmart, I saw it. Appropriately named, it was the One Egg Wonder! A perfect little 41/2 inch skillet complete with a steam vented lid, a must in my world of pots and pans. I wasn’t sure I could work with this tiny pan, even on my smallest burners. But, lo and behold, it was perfect! Just spray a tiny bit of oil on the surface, set the temperature at medium-high, and add an egg. I top it with a little celery salt, then the lid and let it steam until it reaches our preferred doneness. That’s all there is to it and I cook one perfect egg after another. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve declared my love for that wonderful tiny pan. Not only are the eggs perfectly round, but they have minimal fat added to them and they slide right out of the skillet wherever I want to put them.
So how does the human mind turn off its quest for perfection? Maybe we need to give our hearts more sway in our everyday behaviors than we give our minds. Maybe we need to stop overthinking everything we do and thus lower our expectations of perfection. Maybe we need to stop believing we deserve certain rewards and remember that if we really got all that we deserved, we probably wouldn’t be remotely pleased with the result. Jesus didn’t deserve to be beaten and tortured and nailed to a cross, but it happened, nonetheless. He accepted His fate because He loved us.
