When I told Hannah about my robin sighting on Saturday, she danced around the kitchen and clapped her hands in pure delight. “So, soon we’ll see nests in our trees again, right Mom?” my spring dreamer asked.
I nodded and then headed downstairs to quiet the dryer’s wail. Moments later, Hannah came racing into the laundry room.
“Mommy, I just looked outside and it’s snowing.” “I know, honey,” I murmured, folding the warm jeans and placing them in the waiting plastic basket.
“And, Mommy,” Hannah continued, “There are no leaves on the trees or flowers on the bushes or tall grass in the timber.”
“Not yet,” I agreed, oblivious to my daughter’s concern.
“But, Mommy,” Hannah said with a declarative sigh , “How will that robin you saw out my window build a nest if the whole world is just bare and brown?”
I stopped digging in the cavernous dryer and turned to face my seven-year-old. Her blue eyes brimmed with tears, the signature of her sensitive heart. In my excitement over the unexpected sign of spring, I’d never thought of the little robin’s plight.
Before I could respond with mommy wisdom, Hannah’s watery eyes began to dance. A thoughtful smile flipped her down turned lips. “I know!” my creative one declared. “We’ll do what Miss Muddle did!” Immediately, I pictured one of our favorite picture books and returned my daughter’s grin.
Hannah dashed to the craft room and came back with a box filled with strands of colored yarn.
“Okay,” Hannah said with pleasure. “I’ve got just what that robin needs to build a beautiful nest.”
After recruiting her little brother, my third born stepped out in the swirling snow and hung a rainbow of ribbons across the the naked branches of a tree not far from where I’d first spotted our feathered forecaster of spring.
As the colorful string waltzed in the wind, I longed for such a lavish gift myself. If everything I needed to build my home were dangling from the trees in my front yard, surely I could construct a haven of hope and beauty. I’d love to wake each day to ribbons of wisdom, streams of sacrificial love, and cords of compassion. I’d gladly pluck strands of joy and thread them ornately through the ordinary moments of my days. If only the makings of a home were hung on a tree.
But my Savior, who understands my fears and my broken-ness, the One who hears my desperate prayers for the six precious lives who share my nest, He whispers, “You’ll never find what you need to build your home hanging on a tree in your front yard. I’ve already done that for you. Just take my nail-scarred hand and we’ll build your nest together, one strand of grace at a time. My hands, your prayers, and a thread of faith.”
The Overflow:“By wisdom a house is built, and through understanding it is established; through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures.” -Proverbs 24:2-4
What a touching post, Alicia! It’s such a beautiful thought of Jesus hanging on that tree so we could have everything we need to make our homes beautiful! I needed this today! Thanks so much for sharing your heart! ~ Alycia
Yes, I do love the glimpses 🙂 And their creativity— without the kids initiating “great ideas” I’d probably have none 🙂
Did you bring sunshine home from California? I can’t wait for you to share a “glimpse” of your trip with me! Hope to talk soon! -Alicia
Sweet story! Don’t you just love the glimpses into the way our children’s minds work?!!! 🙂
~Robin
What a touching post, Alicia! It’s such a beautiful thought of Jesus hanging on that tree so we could have everything we need to make our homes beautiful! I needed this today! Thanks so much for sharing your heart!
~ Alycia