Last summer during our annual retreat I wrote about my delight in
watching mother and father mourning doves prepare for and take
care of their babies. The nest was in a tree whose limbs brush
against my window so I had a box seat.
To my wonderment this year a mother robin chose almost that
spot to build her much more carefully constructed nest, piece by
piece. Then she settled down to warm and protect her beautiful blue
eggs. In blazing St. Louis sun that sifted through the leaves or in the
heavy rains amid thunder and lightning, she spread out her
protecting wings and braved the storm.
After a week or two of patient sitting, I noticed that she had to
perch on the edge of the nest for lack of room and that three pink
mouths vied frantically for the worms she and her mate deposited in each one. Day by day the baby robins grew in feathers, size, and
rambunctiousness. Mother Robin was unfailingly patient first with
the babies and then with the “teenage” behavior of her brood. Again
when the heavy rains came, they all four seemed to hunker down
in the nest, and she was still able to spread her wings over the bulges
below and protect them.
Gradually the three little birds spent their time flapping their wings,
pushing each other aside, and even teetering to a near-by branch,
only to hop right back into the nest.
I had hoped to see their departure. They were all still there one
morning, but when I came back after lunch, the nest was completely
empty. Neither the mother or babies returned.
Throughout this drama, I was ever aware of the parallel of God’s
nurturing, faithful care for us in sunshine and storm. I thought often
of Paul Claudel’s observation: “Jesus did not come to explain away
suffering or remove it. He came to fill it with his presence.”
Please click on the link below and watch this video of a mother
robin feeding her chicks.
http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=9479342&server=vimeo.com&show_title=0&show_byline=0&show_
portrait=0&color=00ADEF&fullscreen=1
