Holding On to the Branches

As many of us are bracing the cold of February, it is often tough to imagine Spring. It is especially difficult  when you take in the barren landscapes like we see here in North Carolina.

No blossoms from the Crepe Myrtle.
No lush Maples or Elms.
No long Weeping Willow branches dancing in the wind.
No scarlet, yellow ochre, or saffron leaves hanging on to the crisp air of Fall.

No, winter is upon us and the trees' barren branches are dark and skeletal against the often gray skies.

However, those same trees hold something profound in their branches, perhaps a lesson in foundations: the bird's nest.

With ice storms, gale force winds, snow and torrential downpours....everywhere I look I see birds' nests.
These amazing little structures, though for now uninhabited, were created with such insight, such feats of engineering that although it would seem, they would be long gone just like the leaves that once bejeweled these trees; there they are. Sturdy. Strong. Unshakable.

I really noticed these a few days ago. I was on my way home from work and as I stopped at a traffic light, I looked at the wooded area beside the road.  I counted at least 30 nests in the barren woods.  Holding on, gripping the branches with such ingenuity, I wondered how it was possible for something made mouthful by mouthful (or I should say "beakful") to be so resilient.

So many parallels to our lives can be found in this simple object that we may quite often take for granted.

I think of the last year and a half as I faced with such uncertainty: job loss, financial catastrophe, teenager issues, health issues and on and on the list goes.  It was during this time that I went through one of the most intense times spiritually as well.  I cried out to God with such desperation, it was as if my own faith was white-knuckled and facing forward into the storm. 

Nests, as we know are made from grass, hay and twigs. But many are also made from debris, castoffs and even feathers pulled from the builder's own body. The parent will sacrifice their own warmth/comfort to make sure their family is warm and dry. Sometimes the best nests aren't the most beautiful. Maybe that too is the message of faith.

We walk through times where we literally have to pull the "feathers" of down and comfort apart to build a shelter that will withstand the blows life wields.

I was walking across the campus, where I teach yesterday as some maintenance workers were trimming and working on some of the crab apple trees that grow along the path near the parking lot.  There, on the ground, still attached to a trimmed branch was a nest.  I laughed as I knew this whole imagery had been bouncing around in head for the last couple of days.  I bent down to look at the nest and there I found a surprise. Woven around the twigs and mud, was a sparkly purple thread. 

That sounds about right....

It the middle of that moment, when it is all you can do, to hang on, to hold on, to trust.....there comes the sparkle: grace.