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... his eye is on the sparrow....

klunker

New Member
My wife and I were blessed with three great children. Growing up, the middle child pushed every button she could. During high school, we thought we had lost her to drugs and alcohol. We would never have bet she would graduate from high school.
At age 26, this troubled young lady was the youngest vice president of the world's largest insurance brokerage firm. Today, she sits in a corner office as Director of Risk Management and Contract Development of a Fortune 300 firm.
She and her husband have been married over 15 years. After finding they could have no children of their own, they adopted a sibling set of three beautiful children. Nothing like taking on a 2 year old, 4 year old, and 8 year old... all at the same time. That was almost 10 years ago and these three grandkids make us proud every day.
The following is a true story we experiences as working through the difficulties of this troubled child.

“… his eye is on the sparrow…”

BB guns… Good ol’ lever action, Red Ryder, BB guns. Daisy Corporation made a fortune selling them. And, the primary use of BB guns on a farm was riddance of pests… pests like sparrows.

Those pesky sparrows… They built nests in the barn and pooped on everything below the nest. They built nests in the chicken house and their poop would run down the walls. Sparrows… stupid, pesky sparrows. BB guns, evidently, were invented to assist in the riddance of sparrows from the farms. But, no matter how many we shot, the numbers still seemed to grow. Hummm, “… his eye is on the sparrow…”???? Could there be anything to that short phrase taken from scripture?

It was 1990 and a career move required our family leaving "home" and moving to a large metropolitan area.The move was difficult for the family. Long time family friends were left behind as our family began a new chapter in our lives in suburbia.

Late one afternoon, our daughter (14 years old at the time) was in the backyard. She happened upon a “goober” baby bird that had fallen from a nest. No feathers… size of a quarter… ugly orange beak looked completely out of proportion to the rest of the bird’s body. Dragging it into the house, I told her to toss it in the trash. Those baby birds that fall from nests won’t live. Toss it away! Go wash your hands! Yuck!

The daughter declared she would keep it in a topping container overnight… and pray that it would live. (You have to understand this daughter and the word “declare”, but that’s an entire story of its own.) If her prayers were answered, she’d decide what to do. If the bird died, overnight, she’d give it a “proper” burial in the morning. She made an attempt to feed the bird a bit of milk and bread with a toothpick. And, to everyone’s surprise, the next morning “Bird” was still alive! More bread and milk… two days, three days… more bread and milk.

As “Bird” developed feathers, it was apparent we were raising a pesky sparrow. Yes, after ridding the farm of dozens of such pests, now my daughter was working diligently to raise one to adulthood. Those drab, brown/gray feathers that we couldn’t stand to see on the farm were now growing as a coat on a “resident” of my own home. What????

Okay, if you’re going to keep it… if it’s going to be a pet (a sparrow as a “pet”????)… let’s name “Bird”. No! Mother and daughter would have nothing to do with the idea of assigning a name to “Bird”. If we give him/her a name, we’ll be so much more disappointed should it die. If we name “Bird”, it will be so much more difficult to release him/her back to the wild. So, “Bird” lived on… and on… and on… and on…

When his cage needed cleaned, Cathy would turn “Bird” loose in the garage. Once the cage was cleaned, she would open the door to the garage and holler “Bird!” “Bird” would land on her shoulder and she would pick it up and place it back into its cage. (Bird needed to stay in his/her cage while in the house. “Bird” was a wild sparrow… certainly not housebroken… and on a diet of bread and milk. “Bird’s” idea of ‘decorating’ by doo-doo, simply could not be tolerated!) Never did “Bird” know any other “mother” than Cathy. Never did “Bird” know that he/she was anything other than a member of our family.

How do you release a bird into the wild that does not know he’s a bird? Could you imagine the surprise of a person walking down a sidewalk and a “pesky sparrow” land on their shoulder? And, where does a bird find bread and milk in the wild? Last time I looked, there isn’t a substantial supply of bread and milk sitting on most street corners waiting for the next sparrow to partake. Release to the wild became impossible. Would we be destined to keep “Bird” until he/she died a natural death? Surely, the life expectancy of a sparrow could not be too long. One year… two years… three years…??????

A couple of times, it was decided “Bird” needed a new cage. Each time a new cage would be purchased, it was discovered “Bird” had other ideas. Placed into a new cage, “Bird” would hunker down in the corner of the cage floor and just shudder. He would not eat. He would not drink. “Bird” would go into almost a convulsive state until placed back into the old cage. Stupid, pesky sparrow…. He’s only a bird and, yet, exerts control enough to not even accept a new cage? What? Surely, a bird isn’t smart enough to know one cage from another. Oh, yes! I can attest that, at least, that bird DID know the difference!

“Bird” loved company. When “Bird” would hear activity up in Cathy’s room in the morning, he would begin singing. When “Bird” heard/saw Linda in the kitchen, he would sing and sing and sing. “Bird” seemed to know the faces of those who so diligently provided him his daily ration of bread and milk that he would sing just for them. Naw!!! Just a pesky sparrow. He couldn’t have been able to differentiate between human beings! After all, he’s just a bird… just a stupid sparrow!

So, what is the life expectancy of a sparrow? (If kids with BB guns are kept away!) Just how long would one expect to be blessed with the company of “Bird”? How long would we be reminded that one of God’s creatures, regarded as quite low in importance to man, could become a bona fide member of a human family? How long would a “stupid sparrow” grace a home and be a listening ear to family experiences, both good and bad? How long would this “bird brain” hear arguments or discussions that were quite serious in the minds of the humans and, simply, reply with his singing. You see, no matter how difficult the times or how joyous the times, Bird” was happy with the cage he was given… never wanting more. No matter how tight budgets were or how a family dealt with the rigors of raising children, “Bird” was completely satisfied to have his bread and milk. Whether the family was rejoicing or meeting challenges, “Bird” sang the same tune. And, in fact, “Bird” was so appreciative of what he had he would sing beautiful melodies giving thanks. Never, were there harsh, evil, tones suggesting “Bird” was not getting his “fair share” or that he was “entitled” to something greater!

“… his eye is on the sparrow…” No, for 12 years, the eye of the sparrow was on a family. For 12 years, our family was blessed with having the opportunity to learn valuable life lessons from a “stupid sparrow”. And, when the day came that “Bird” decided his original “heroine”… When “Bird” finally determined Cathy and her family had made it through some extremely difficult times and survived those times… “Bird” had done his job and went, peacefully, away. In Cathy’s home, the soft singing of a sparrow has been replaced by the sounds of three children. In Cathy’s home, the same excitement detected in “Bird’s” singing as he knew his “Mother” was rising and preparing for school is now detected in the voices of three children… three children just as blessed and excited to have the best Dad and Mom they could ever dream of! You see, these three children “fell out of a nest” one day, and were picked up and given love and respect and hope and ideals by a very special couple. Today, you can see the same spark… excitement… appreciation… in the eyes of these three children as could be heard in the singing voice of a sparrow. The young teenager who “declared” she would successfully nourish a “stupid sparrow” has, with her husband, taken on the significant task of successfully nourishing the bodies and minds of three young children.

And, some years later, relating the experiences of “Bird”, it is not without a few tears welling in my eyes. For you see, I can still hear the singing of a pesky, stupid sparrow that had the audacity to fall from a nest one day in a troubled teenager's backyard.
 
Wonderful, Klunker, just wonderful! Best wishes to you and all of yours.

There is truly more wisdom in the Good Book than people give it cresit for.
 
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