All winter, that faithful bush offered me glimpses into a secret world of snowflakes and icicles on bright red berries. All winter, we waited with hope while we watched our homemade bird feeder. I’ve witnessed a whole cycle of death and rebirth outside this kitchen window.
That bush never fails to show me something about my own heart.
Today, we position a kitchen chair and take another peek at the Northern Cardinal nest. Three eggs! I learn that this collection of eggs is called a clutch.
|Northern Cardinal’s Clutch of Eggs|
I know it only as a verb. To clutch means to grasp and seize. It’s a desperate verb. But as a noun relating to birds, it simply means all the eggs produced at one time in a nest. No desperation, no seizing. It’s just the fact of reproduction and new life.
If I wait out the seasons, and if I stop grasping and instead let God bring things about in due time, the result will be as wonderful and right as a Northern Cardinal’s clutch of eggs. They’ll hatch in a few weeks. We can’t rush this. We can only observe and honor it. We cooperate, not clutch.
A wise mentor told me that the secret to a life with God is to be “led and not driven.” It means patience. We don’t clutch.
Journal: Where can I be more led and less driven?