My eye caught a small round mound stuck upon a branch. Looking closer, I found indeed it was the start of a hummingbird nest. And yes, I now had the mother hummingbird buzzing around my head, reminding me that I was in her space. I have been able to witness at least 3 other hummingbird families come to life, and I was always mesmerized by these "tiny vulnerabilities" becoming resilient birds in only a matter of five to six weeks. The nest was right out my patio door, and I had the best view to watch them daily. I was smiling.
I had a hunch that babies would be coming soon, because our hummingbird feeder had been especially sucked dry only a few weeks earlier. One day I found at least 4 hummingbirds at one time feeding, which is highly unusual because most times they come one at a time and don't seem to want to share the space. If they would share, it was two only at a the bar and of course on opposite sides. I was filling that feeder at least once weekly, so I knew babies had to be on board.
The tiny eggs were no bigger than the tips of my fingers. The mother, each day and night, covered her nest, taking only short breaks to do her daily business. She was quick to remind me if I ever got too close to her babies. I always told her I was just looking, I meant no harm. In the evening the feisty breezes would come, enough to stir up the wind chimes into chaotic ringing. I watched the mother "ride" her nest. It was like she was on a ship with undulating wave after wave, and yet she held on. She rode out each evening swell until it passed into the calm of night.
I saw the first feathery balls, amazed that something so petite was alive. Each day brought new growth to them. I captured Mom who came faithfully at perfect intervals to feed the tiny beaks. She still would warm her nest at night, until their heads finally rose above the rim of the nest. At times, Mom seemed to be a bit more distant, but her babies were content as they began to see the world around them. They too felt the evening wind, but seemed unconcerned in the security of their nest. They never fell out.
I knew that this was the last day I would see them. They now were practicing the rhythm of their wings. I was up early in the morning, and sure enough, they had fled the nest and were perched upon the nearby branches. One took a practice run, and landed on the geranium hanging basket, but the next time, he was on his way, chasing after his mother as she led the way. The other was a bit more reluctant, but after getting one more feeding from Mom, she must have gone, because when I looked again, all the branches were bare. Another family on its way to life . . .
Creation with all its wonder is right before me, with all its lessons put before me. God cares and loves his creation and creatures. He cares mostly for the tiny and vulnerable. He surrounds them in the winds and gales. He provides for them, He never forgets about them, and desires them to live and thrive. If I am a follower of Jesus, should I not mimic the One I follow? Should not I live in such a way, that I am most concerned about the weakest, the tiniest, the poorest, those most vulnerable? Should I not reflect the love and care of my Creator?
God cares about his world, his creation, his creatures, and his people. All of the world is of utmost concern to Him. He is grieved with climate change. He is grieved with injustice and oppression. He is grieved with the religiosity. He is grieved with complicity and silence when wrong is upheld for personal power and gain. Father, break my heart to always see You in the eyes of the forgotten and left behind. . .
"'Yet, even now,' declares the Lord,
'Return to Me with all your heart,
And with fasting, weeping, and mourning;
And rend your heart and not your garments.'
Now return to the Lord your God,
For He is gracious and compassionate,
Slow to anger, abounding in lovingkindness,
And relenting of evil.
Who knows whether He will not turn and relent,
And leave a blessing behind Him . . .?"
(Joel 2: 12-14)
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