I heard the dreaded thump on the window mid morning and turned to see a small bird laying face down on the deck. My heart sunk. I called my son to the door and immediately began to think about a plan for saving it. After grabbing a broom, dustpan and cardboard box I picked up my phone to do some quick research. As I frantically googled, “How to rescue an injured bird”, and started planning out loud our next steps, Cole walked out the door and approached the bird. It flipped onto it’s back and looked as though it was about to die. I kept googling. Cole then crouched down and gently picked up the bird in his hands. He carried it to the door and held it in his hand. All we could do at that point was stare in amazement at the beautiful bird. It looked peaceful as it simply rested in Cole’s hands for quite some time.
And then it flew away.
The next thought I had was about my striving in contrast to what Cole instinctively knew to do – lift it up and hold it in his hand until it had the strength to fly again.
It has been close to a month since Cole held that bird in his hand, but the image has come to my mind more and more these days. As Christmas approaches, the struggles of life don’t get put on hold. For some, they are magnified. And I want fix. And God reminds me that though I can’t fix, I can reach out my hands to others in kindness, love and support and point them to the hope that is found in Christ.
Lord, thank you for this powerful reminder. This Christmas, and always, give us hands that hold, hands that serve, and hands that love. Amen.