Birds and Worries

Birds and Worries

I was walking my dog the other day through our neighborhood park, allowing him to run around and sniff every blade of grass for evidence of other animals. My eyes were on my feet, which is a common occurrence so that I don’t trip as often! My mind, however, was consumed with all the negative news of the day, and the personal struggles that were presenting themselves for obsession. I thought about inflation, about personal finances, about ministry finances, about my kids, about the mess that some schools are these days, about health problems in family and friends, about so much of the pain in the world. I was in deep.

Suddenly, I perceived God’s voice cutting through all the rest of it—Look up! I, thankfully, paid attention to what God was telling me, and glanced above me in the sky overhead. Hundreds of swallows danced and dove over me, catching bugs and enjoying the freedom of flight. They didn’t seem concerned about the state of the world as they made beautiful aerobatic maneuvers, performing what looked like a beautiful, chaotic dance of revelry and joy.

My thoughts went immediately to this verse:

What is the value of your soul to God? Could your worth be defined by any amount of money? God doesn’t abandon or forget even the small sparrow he has made. How then could he forget or abandon you? What about the seemingly minor issues of your life? Do they matter to God? Of course they do! So you never need to worry, for you are more valuable to God than anything else in this world. Luke 12:6-7

What My Kids Teach Me

What My Kids Teach Me

I learn from my kids almost every day. I’m not saying they are perfect, or never do anything that requires correction. But they also teach me. I don’t say this in arrogance, but I don’t think I expected to learn this much from my kids. I figured I’d be doing all the teaching, I suppose.

I watch them show up in bravery in ways I never would have imagined as a kid their ages. They face pain, discomfort, embarrassment and fear each day in their sports. My daughter stood on a pitcher’s mound yesterday and pitched two innings of the first game of the softball season, knowing it was going to be harder with this year’s rules and a tough first opponent. All eyes on her, she breathed through her fear and struck them out twice. It wasn’t perfect. It was better than perfect—it was brave.

My son walked onto a basketball court a couple of weeks ago and faced a three-person team of kids who were all at least a foot taller than him, and looked like grown men. He didn’t back down, but worked with his teammates to figure a way around the giants by shooting baskets from the outside and passing frequently. He didn’t quit or run away, and handled the loss like a champ. His perseverance showed in the next game where he came away scoring all but two of the points in the game. Even against incredible odds, he was all-in, continuing to forge ahead and figure out what to do next.

Both of them have faced being in different schools this year, and the loneliness that has brought on some days. Don’t get me wrong, they don’t always get along, but they at least knew they had a buddy somewhere in the school when they were at the same elementary school and would encourage each other in the hallways when they walked by. This year, my son took on middle school, which isn’t a scenario I would like to repeat in my own life. Walking into middle school feels like a totally different world than the elementary school, and he had to learn where all his classes were, how to keep up grades on his own and how to maneuver through the social weirdness that is that age. He has developed friendships, stayed away from the drama and didn’t allow the rejections that happened to deter him from continuing to engage with people.

Walking with the broken to find hope in Jesus