A Gift on Whirring Wings

I'm starting my day on the deck with a cup of hot coffee in a favorite mug, watching tiny little creatures dance through the air. Dips, spins, magnificent twirls that would cause Fred and Ginger to covet their moves. It's early - still the cool of the day, yet they are already at the work of finding enough of the nectar they need to survive another day.

I wonder - where do they sleep at night? I imagine it to be somewhere oh so high up in the trees, tiny little feet clinging to a branch, close to the trunk where they'll be safe from a sudden gust of wind.

My feeder was here yesterday, filled and waiting. Yet they are still cautious as they approach this morning. They zoom near it, around it, over it, before one finally decides to trust enough to stop and shove its long curved bill down into the opening and take a deep drink. He draws for just a moment, then his wings begin to whirl and he's off again. Maybe he'll fly to our neighbor's feeder and grab another drink. Or maybe he'll head way back up to a branch of one of the towering pines in our back yard, where he'll rest for a minute before he flies away to search again.

This tiniest of birds brings lessons to me.

Learn to know when I'm safe and when I'm not. 

People come into our lives; sometimes they are a gift from God. Sometimes the baggage we both carry cries out to each other. Those who are the first allow me to rest on their branches, catch my breath, when I need it. It's up to me to learn to recognize the latter, and if necessary, back up. Retreat. Not everyone who comes into my life should necessarily stay.* 

Draw deep.

Just as God gave the hummer that long curved beak to dip deep into the head of a petunia, to draw out the nectar that lies deep inside, I'm also designed to draw deeply from his Word, from family and friends whose presence and words speak life back into me when I'm feeling drained, empty or discouraged. I have to learn the habit of slowing down. In today's world it never happens by accident, and nobody ever took a long sip of anything going ninety miles an hour.

Draw from more than one feeder.

I wonder if the nectar from a purple petunia tastes different than that from a red geranium? Or a rose or a peony. Anything that smells so heavenly as a peony must have wonderful nectar too.  God took the time to create so much variety in this world. Surely they taste different from each other. Sometimes my 'nectar' comes from my daily time reading my Bible, or a devotional; my Proverb for the day. Sometimes it's over a cup of coffee or evening glass of wine with my husband. Sometimes it's conversations with one of my three kids. Sometimes it's a book I'm reading, or even quotes and quips from those I follow on social media. Listen. Be aware. Sift. Sort. Store Away. 

Some feeders are for a season. 

This lesson is tough. What fills my soul at this stage of my life may not down the road. People change. I change. I have to learn to see when to let things, and people go. Sometimes it's just time.  Not every feeder filled with perfectly good nectar is one where I should stop and draw from, even if it was in the past. I'm still a work in progress, still being shaped by the life all around me, and others are also. Sometimes I need to appreciate the connection we had when we both needed it. I have to continually learn to choose people who choose me, and not make someone a priority when I am only one of their options. (Thank you social media for the wise quotes.)

Spend some time alone on the limb.

I have to take time to draw away. Even Jesus took a break, got alone. He didn't heal everyone. He didn't cast out every demon. He didn't feed everyone all the time. He drew away to 'a lonely place'. Alone time allows me to refuel in a way that is different than when I'm drawing deep from others. 

What an amazing God! That he speaks to me through this tiniest of creatures, sent as a gift on whirring wings to my deck this morning.

(Note: Boundaries and Safe People, both by Cloud and Townsend, are great reads on this subject.)