A robin has built a nest in the arborvitae outside my office window. (In the photo above, it's the barely visible horizontal mesh of dry grey grasses in the center of the shrub.) For days, I've been able to sit at my computer and watch the male robin hop around the yard gathering dried grasses and stems to use. I've been wondering what it will be like to try to write when I hear the cheep, cheep, cheep of hungry baby birds.
Then I remembered the cat. A few years ago, an abandoned black cat took up residence in the neighborhood. The people across the street feed it, but that doesn't stop it from hunting. It stalks my yard for birds constantly. It must get into fights too because one eye is perpetually shut.
So now I'm worried. That arborvitae will be so easy for the cat to climb, and there isn't much I can do to stop it. You can't go outside and talk sense to a robin, and if I move the nest, the birds will abandon it. I can run outside and chase away the cat if I happened to see it lurking, but I'm not at my computer desk 24/7. I just have to accept that I'm not in control.
The last day or so, my own life has made me feel a bit like that robin. I learned yesterday that the writing job I was offered last week might have to be split with another freelancer. (The publisher's schedules might necessitate having two writers.) I won't know the answer for a week or so, but I felt very discouraged about the possibility. Last night, I was wakeful and had to get up to pray for a while. If this assignment is cut, we'll need to find even more work to get through the summer than I thought we would.
So I feel like a robin, perched on a flimsy structure of dried straw, my whole future gathered in this nest with me, while a one-eyed black cat slinks around the garden below.
And yet . . . Jesus reminded his disciples that not even a sparrow can fall to the ground without the Father knowing of it and that we are of much more value than the sparrows. So instead of keeping my focus fearfully on the danger, I guess I'll have to lift my gaze to the heavens and trust our future once again into his care.
I'll keep you posted.
6 comments:
You have my prayers and best wishes for your future. I just know that elusive job is out there somewhere for you. I feel it! And that robin will be find. Maybe someone will adopt the cat and make him an indoor cat!!
some things are out of our control.
I have lost so many baby birds in nests built in my roses, it makes me ill, but I can't do anything to prevent it.
I hope that job is right around the corner, like Gin, I'll be praying for you. I really enjoy your blog, I finally remembered to bookmark it!
Lynn
so easy to get stuck in the fear, even when it is legitimate. this is a wonderful meditation, and it's true, "His eye is on the sparrow..."
Cats typically don't like tinfoil, so if you are really determined, you could put a small layer of tinfoil around the base of the tree to keep the cat from it. Just an idea.
Take care! I sure hope you don't have to share the assignment.
And hugs back atcha!
Thank you for this...I needed the reminder that even though I too am not in control of all things (and oh, how I want to be) Someone is who probably has a better handle on it anyway. And thanks for your kind words and support also. Prayers for your job situation.
Gin, Lynn, Kelly, Diane, and Kate: Thank you for the support and prayers.
And Lynn and Diane, thanks for visiting my blog. Come back any time.
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