One of my favorite childhood books is The Best Nest, by P.D. Eastman. I happen to love bird nests; I spent hours as a child looking for them in springtime. Something about nests just absolutely enthralls me.
If you remember last year, we observed both the Northern Cardinals and the Robins lay beautiful eggs in nests in the Weeping Cherry and the Winterberry Bush.
Alas! Not one egg survived! Either black snakes, chipmunks, or cats climbed right into those low nests and devoured all the eggs.
This morning, my neighbor points up to her beautiful hanging potted plants by her front door. She remarks that a sparrow has built a nest right in the pot.
I think about that hanging potted plant all day.
It’s a perfect nest.
It’s safe from predators (how in the world would they get up there?). No snake could access it; no chipmunk could scale the siding on the house to get to the chain hanging the plant; and no cat would get that close to her front door.
All enemy access points secured. This is a perfect nesting spot.
I think about enemy access points and the wisdom of birds who nest well. I want to settle down in places that deny access from threatening things whether spiritually or emotionally. I want to nest well and thrive there. One of the definitions of “nest” as a verb is to place a smaller object inside a larger one. That’s how I like to think of my safe relationship with God. I’m nested inside of Him, safe and secure.