The Carolina Wren was not happy, and she was doing her best to let me know it each time I walked through the garage. I watched her fly in and out, and heard her chirping at me from the nearby boxwoods. She was trying so hard to communicate, but I was too busy packing to pay attention to her.
The boxes didn’t keep her from choosing a clay pot shelved on one side of the crowded garage to build her nest. As a mother, I should have been able to interpret her chirping, but I was distracted by the task at hand—moving.
Inside our home, separate stacks of coded boxes were lined around each room marked to go to their designated places. Some were being stored for six weeks until our daughter moved three states away to attend graduate school, others were bing stored for an indefinite amount of time, and still others were to accompany my husband and me as we moved into his parents’ home to assist them in their golden years.
The timing of the move was good, but it was challenging. My emotions were all over the place, but I did my best to keep my focus on how God was leading our family and to trust that He would watch over us.
And then there was the little mama wren that decided to start her family in the middle of my move. Each day I looked in on the baby birds, under her watchful eye, and checked for feathers. I couldn’t imagine disturbing their nest, so I prayed they would grow fast and be able to leave on their own.
In the days that followed, the mama bird continued flying in and out of the garage to feed her babies while I packed. My thoughts would escape the daunting task and find their way to the three birds getting ready to venture out of their home into the unknown. Then I would hear chirping and remember they would not be alone. God began to whisper in my spirit that my little family of three was preparing to do the same thing. But just as the birds would follow their mother’s voice, we too needed to follow His.
Moving day came. While standing beside the truck and explaining my coding system to the movers, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. It was one of the baby birds making its way out of the garage. For the rest of the morning, I kept my eye on the clay pot as people went in and out of the house. Around lunchtime, I peeked into the nest and found that another bird had left—only one more to go.
Hours later, the truck pulled out of the driveway and as the sun began casting shadows across the almost empty garage, I heard the mother chirping. I turned around to see the last bird had jumped out of the nest and was making it’s way outside, hopping towards the sound of it’s mother’s voice.
Three of God’s small creatures were leaving their nest the same day three of God’s children were leaving their home. The image was not lost on me, and I remembered this scripture: “Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?” (Matt. 6:26).
Assurance of God’s love and care for my family took root deep in my heart. Peace began to fill me as I realized that just as that mama bird was always near her babies watching over them, I knew God would do the same for us. On the day we moved, it was as if God was making a point to show me, through this display, in nature that He would take care of each one of us as we departed into the unknown.