What Matters Most…

They do not even wait until I leave anymore. As soon as I reach the feeder with my old rusty coffee can, they come–perch in tree and bush, hover above my head–and wait. They watch as I fill the transparent tubes, scatter seed on ground for the thrush and occasional rabbit.

Sometimes they sing.

This morning, as I kneel over the can of seed, a song sparrow lights on the leggy forsythia bush. It is raining but I don’t care as I stop what I am doing and gaze up at his prehistoric form. He cocks his head to one side, as if to say, “On with it, lady!”

I smile and finish the task at hand, barely stepping away before he flits down onto the fragile sill of the seed trough.

I study him, fast at work, and remember my morning reading.
I am blessed to be guest posting over at Finding Heaven today. Won’t you join me for the rest of this story?


  1. says


    You’ve described my daily struggle with such aching truth that I have to re-read your whole post and just REST in it. Thanks for using your gifts, for sharing your wisdom. Abiding and dreaming- I think God created us for both, didn’t He? I’m just still trying to figure out how to be like that little sparrow.

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