Monday, April 13, 2015

Mercy and a Yellow Warbler


Lacey spring air painted the deck with a thin sheet of frost. The hushed anticipation of renewal was checked by a last thrust of winter’s fading power. The trees swollen with life waited backstage for their coming glory-crowning and the sky held the promise of blue skies and long days coming.

My husband discovered her in the morning. The tiny warbler, like a slip of sunlight on our back porch, lying motionless, lying flightless and afraid. She must have been overzealous, excited by the prospect of sweet new days, of plentiful food, of warm warbler chicks with chirping cries and beating hearts.

Full of spring-life, she flew against the reflecting glass of the window, and she fell. There on the deck, my husband found her cold body, her tiny cold body with the shadow of a heartbeat, the faint whisper of a dying hope in the season of life. I looked at her and the sorrow came over my heart like a veil.

I had to go. I couldn’t stay, and she was dying. Before I left, I said to my husband--remembered something that I had read in a Birding magazine—Rub her body gently with your finger to coax her back to life; the bird may only be stunned, even though she gives the appearance of dying. She may only have had the wind knocked out and needs to be kept warm and regain her strength—

So I asked him to try it and left, doubting that it would work, that revival was a possibility, that the little yellow warbler would taste the sweet air again and feel the delight of spring on her wings.

Thoughts flew through my mind as I drove—if she didn’t improve, we could bring her to the Wildlife Rehabilitation facility in Peace, RI; maybe they could help her-maybe they could do something. What could I do but try and throw a feeble, hopeful suggestion over my shoulder?

So he stayed there with the little warbler and I left. And I hoped as I drove and I prayed . . .

I knew a woman stunned, fallen like the yellow warbler. Her breath knocked from her through the crash of sharp providence, she fell, wounded and unable to pick herself up.

Sometimes tragedy is like that. Sometimes it knocks the wind from us and leaves us so shaken that we cannot pick ourselves up. Sometimes we sit like Job in the dust, speechless and crushed, scraping our wounds with the broken pottery of the well-meaning words of our friends and bleeding the sorrow of the enemies' pompous jeering triumph.

Sometimes we cannot pick ourselves up. Sometimes there are too many broken pieces and the confusion overwhelms and the eyes cannot see for the teardrops that cloud them.

And sometimes God calls us to be a Hur or an Aaron to some precious child of His who cannot lift their arms, who cannot find the words to pray. There are Adoniram Judsons among us who are standing sentry at some lonely grave for months and months and they cannot wrench themselves from the jungle of their sorrow. They cannot lift themselves from the despair, from the dying; they have had their breath knocked out.

It is so easy, like Job’s friends, to cast a judgement on the downcast, to offer a quick-fix, to empty blame upon a bleeding heart when no immediate answer can be found for the reason behind their suffering.

Does there have to be a reason that we can fold our eager fingers around? How did Job’s friends know that there was a contest in the heavenlies raging around a small, faithful servant of God named Job? How can we fully know as finite humans what purpose is in the mind of God in our sufferings? How can we grasp Omnipotence and Divine Wisdom?

We cannot . . . but we can trust Him for His purpose in what He allows and ordains. And we can know that He will protect and preserve those who are His, those He shelters in His great Father-hand of love and truth and awesome justice.

Who knows how long Job suffered . . . Would the church today condemn him for sitting in the dust? Are we sometimes so impatient with our fellow brothers and sisters that we leave them on the frosty deck, thinking that if it is God’s will they will revive and fly? Do we leave them to the “will of the Lord,” or do we lift them up and stimulate their faith, with sensitivity, compassion and patience? Do we help the blood to flow through their numb, lifeless limbs again, or are we frustrated when it seems like they are taking too long to “snap out of it?”

Do we pick them up, as Jesus reached out His hand to Peter in the raging waves? Peter’s faith had failed . . . and yet, the hand of Jesus, and the gentle rebuke of grace offered in love. Would He allow one of His to slip through the angry waves to utter ruin?

I love the way that Isaac Newton took lonely, depressed, suicidal William Cowper under his wing. What patience, what grace this great man of faith offered through the Holy Comforter. Is God calling one of us to be that kind of support to another of His own? To offer ourselves, to pour ourselves out for another child of God? Isaac Newton did it continually, even opening his home to Cowper as a refuge and encouraging the depressed poet laureate of England to write hymns of glory to the Father of all Comfort.

And we sing them today.

My husband called.

The warbler lived . . . sat up in his hand and eventually took wing to the sky.

Through the patience of waiting . . . and the mercy of God.


You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on EarthThe Modest MomWhat Joy is Mine, Yes They Are All Ours, Missional Call, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every SeasonA Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Messy Marriage, My Teacher's Name is Mama, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Count My Blessings, Beauty Observed, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul SurvivalGood Morning MondaysThe HomeAcre HopMommy Moments Link UpGrace and Truth LinkupFaith Filled FridaySaturday Soiree Blog PartyTell It To Me TuesdaysSHINE Blog HopMotivate and Rejuvenate Monday Link-UpA Little R&R WednesdaysTGI Saturdays Blog Hop, Totally Terrific Tuesday


24 comments:

  1. Bekki, such a beautiful post!

    It spurred me on to be more compassionate when I may be "losing patience" with someone in difficulty.

    The way you weave words is such a beautiful testimony of God's gift in you. :-)

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  2. Thank you, Karen; you are an encouragement and a blessing to me! I'm glad that the Lord spoke to you through this post; I know what you mean about learning to be more compassionate towards those who are experiencing difficulties . . . it is definitely something that the Holy Spirit continually does His work in our hearts in.

    The Lord bless you, Karen!

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  3. Rebekah, this is lovely, profound, and poetic! Also, I am wondering if you know of this blog about Lilias Trotter by Miriam Rockness: https://ililiastrotter.wordpress.com/

    I am visiting from Wise Woman.

    God bless!
    Virginia

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    1. Thank you, Virginia! I went over and looked at Miriam Rockness' blog--thank you for sharing that with me! I have read her book, A Passion for the Impossible: the Life of Lilias Trotter, and it really blessed me.

      I am so glad that you stopped by; have a blessed week!

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  4. So glad the yellow warbler survived with your husbands attention. I am blessed by your thoughtful encouragement to offer grace and help to those we see struggling. Thank-you for the inspiring post!

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    1. You're welcome, Carol! I am so glad that it survived, too!

      God bless you; have a wonderful week!

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  5. What a beautiful portrayal of mercy and grace.

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    1. Rose, I was so touched by the Lord's mercy, even to this little bird. The Lord bless you today :-)

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  6. What a touching blog. Thank you for writing the life lessons and I am glad the little bird survived!

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    1. Thank you, Jedidja! I am glad that the little bird survived, too! Blessings to you!

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  7. Stopping in from Grace and Truth...and so glad I did. Although my mascara is now running.

    This: "Sometimes tragedy is like that. Sometimes it knocks the wind from us and leaves us so shaken that we cannot pick ourselves up. Sometimes we sit like Job in the dust, speechless and crushed, scraping our wounds with the broken pottery of the well-meaning words of our friends and bleeding the sorrow of the enemies' pompous jeering triumph.

    Sometimes we cannot pick ourselves up. Sometimes there are too many broken pieces and the confusion overwhelms and the eyes cannot see for the teardrops that cloud them."

    That has been me in the past four months. Your words describe me as if I had written them myself. I'm so grateful for the tender, renewing hand of Jesus. It has been my lifeline. Thank you for such a beautiful, and timely post.

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    1. Dear Leah, I do not know what I would do or where I would be if it were not for Him--He has brought me through so many deep waters . . . your words humble me . . . I have learned so much in my own life through those who have experienced extreme suffering, and I pray that the Lord will continue to use those nearest His heart through suffering to teach me and to keep me sensitive to those who have been wounded. May God bless you and cause His beautiful face to shine upon you--post tenebras lux--after darkness, light.

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  8. Amen, Rebekah. "the gentle rebuke of grace offered in love." Compassion is so rarely seen these days. It should be the first garment we wear. Have a blessed weekend!

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    1. June, yes; compassion is a beautiful garment . . . and true compassion is so very rare. The Lord bless you, June!

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  9. Such a beautiful and moving post... and so encouraging. Thank you so much for sharing this. Truly lovely.

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    1. Thank you, Lois; I'm so glad that you stopped by; the Lord bless you!

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  10. This beautiful post brought tears to my eyes, you have such a beautiful heart. Thank you for sharing at Good Morning Mondays. We have friends going through a tough trial at the moment and I feel the need to go and sit and be there with them. I hope to we can do that this week. Thank you for the encouragement. Blessings

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    1. Dear Terri, I'm so glad that the post was encouraging! The Lord bless you, Terri--and also your friends who are going through the difficulty; I know that the Lord will use you to encourage them.

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  11. This was a beautiful and encouraging post. Definitely something I needed to read today, as I've been feeling downcast and burdened by hurtful words. Patience, compassion, and gentleness - yes... we need more of each.

    Thank you for sharing (and for linking up to the #SHINEbloghop).

    Wishing you a lovely day.
    xoxo

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    1. Thank you, Jennifer! I'm glad that you stopped by here today; God bless you!

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  12. That was so beautiful. What an encouraging post. I'm so grateful you shared this at TGI Saturdays and I had the opportunity to read it. Blessings to you. Hope you can drop by at TGI Saturdays for a visit this weekend.

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    1. Oh, you're welcome! Blessings to you, also; I'm glad that you stopped by! :-)

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  13. Wow! Just wow. What an encouraging reminder that even though we are stunned doesn't mean we have to be out of commission. God is good! Thanks for linking with Grace and Truth :)

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    1. Yes; true, Arabah! He is good! Thank you for stopping over; have a blessed week!

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