Are You My Mother

Yesterday evening we had taken our bikes out for a brief ride in our neighborhood. While I waited at a street corner for my husband, I observed these birds, as they congregated on the power lines. It was feeding time. Some of the birdies sat, as others flew back and forth to return with some sort of sustenance for their young one.

I noticed one little lone bird, sitting off by its self, waiting patiently to be fed. This baby bird, trusted, just as I did waiting for my husband, for the return of its mother. Every day we trust that what we need will be provided. We trust that loved ones will be alive, that gas stations will have gas, that grocery stores will have food on their shelves, that banks will still have our money, and that water will run out of the faucet. We are a trusting people. Sometimes our trust can get misconstrued. We may put our trust in fame, fortune, or appearance, but all can be fleeting.

DSCN6943Are you my mother?

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Some trust in chariots, and some in horses, but we will remember the name of our God. (victory rests with our Lord)

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3 thoughts on “Are You My Mother

  1. Great food for thought words to trust in the Lord to go with your pictures. Nature is such an amazing thing to watch how they interact. We had Robin eggs last year in a nest on our hose. The mama and papa bird sat so faithfully on it until they hatched. Watched and protected them and then one day they were gone from the nest, but it was so fun to see them and the little ones still hanging out in our back yard. I think even though they’d been thrown out of the nest and taught to fly, the training was continuing. This year we didn’t have a return of a nest on our hose hanger and I kinda missed them. 🙂

  2. Swallows! Where I am, the babies sit around the marinas on dock lines, boat lines and so on instead of telephone lines. It’s such fun to watch the parents tend to them. The babies always spot mom and dad before I do — it’s their chattering and chirping that alerts me, and then I look up to watch the activity.

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