More Than Many Sparrows

   Over the weekend, I found a baby bird. A Robin Nestling, to be exact, wiggling around pitifully under our grill, no nest to be found. After a legitimate amount of research and observation, my Mommy Heart could take no more and I nestled him safely, per the online instructions, in a nest-shaped basket, lined with paper towel. I waited eagerly for his Momma Bird to come for him, peeking out the dining room window more times than I care to admit. I never did see her, but I know she must have come because the next day I discovered bits of moss and things in the basket. What a little homemaker. Husband also said he saw the Daddy Robin around, so it seemed the whole thing was going according to "plan." I envisioned watching the whole circle of life from our dining room window. Bringing Little Boy out to say hello every morning. Etc, etc.
   Then the thunderstorms came, and my head started spinning. Would he make it? Should I move the nest? Would Mommy Bird take the proper precautions? But there was nothing to do but hope for the best. The next morning I went to see what had become of him, and imagine my delight when I peeled back the soaked paper towels to find our little friend, seemingly no worse for the wear, with a wet little feather fauxhawk to boot. Everything was going to be alright. But it wasn't.
Yesterday when I went to check on him, I found he had passed away in the night. I tried, really I did to not be upset by this, to remember all the "real" stuff I have to concern myself with, but it was no use. It hurt my heart a little bit. And then, floating around in my head and my heart came the all familiar verse,

     "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside the Father's care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." Matthew 10:29-31

    I've used it so often to remember not to worry about big things. That God is in control of my life. That if He can take care of things that "don't matter," than He can take care of big things too. And that is what it means. But yesterday morning it meant so much more. It meant that little things did matter. It meant that He saw me. He saw "my" bird. He knew all about it, and it had all been thoroughly under His control before I had ever come on the scene. He saw it wriggling pitifully under my grill, and He entrusted it, even for that short time, into my care. He saw it all, He knew it all. And more than that, He loved me enough to use that experience as a reminder of those constant truths. He sees, He knows, He loves. Big and small.
   So grateful for a God who speaks. Who speaks through sad. Who speaks through small. Thanks for the reminder Jesus. Now I guess I can move on to the "real" things...