his eyes are on the sparrow

I’ve always loved the song George Beverly Shea belts out “His Eyes Are On The Sparrow”. I became even more fond of it after I had the opportunity to meet and spend special personal time with “Bev” as he’s known, years back when I worked with Joni Eareckson Tada, collaborating at a Billy Graham Crusade.
Somehow the words  to that song always seem to make me feel secure. Like….no matter WHAT happens, no matter HOW the pickles squirts (sometimes sweet, sometimes dill, sometimes chopped up relish, all jumbled together) things works out,  you are safe, in Good Hands. (And I don’t mean Allstate Insurance).
So, when a baby sparrow hit our front window hard the other day, I rushed out to see if it was ok (or even still alive). At first I thought it had broken its neck. Then, as it tried to gain its balance in my hands I thought it had a broken wing or foot. I cradled it in my hands, watching its heart beat as fast as hummingbird’s wings  flap. Softly I told the baby it was ok…..safe in my hands (and praying hard our cat wouldn’t come around the corner anytime soon!)
Eventually, I set the bird down in our garden area (and quickly found the cat and put him inside!) . I check on the bird every couple minutes for almost an hour, then went and picked him/her back up and cradled it in my hands. I stroked its tiny speckled feathers, and prayed that its mother wouldn’t be worried that some human was attempting to snatch her young one from her. No sooner had I uttered the words of comfort to my little friend and it wobbled and weaved and then whoosh! It flew off.
Not unlike us…..we hit a window/situation hard and lay stunned, unable to move. Hopefully a friend is nearby to sit with us, to help calm our beating hearts. But our friend knows they can only do so much, and to rest and regain and take a deep breath of confidence is not their job but ours. So they set us in our ‘garden spot’ and pray that no cat (or other situation) will be near to ‘attack’ us, and step back, watching from a distance.  They may come and check to remind us we ARE in good hands, and things WILL work out.
Slowly, ever so slowly, we wobble, we weave, we believe. And we take our beating hearts and bruised beak and soar….to heights we hadn’t thought we could take.