Inspiration

Today's message:
"Trying to fit in"
By Bob Perks

They come to me. They just happen to appear out of nowhere. They enter my life just as they are leaving their own.

I've thought about this and tried to understand why this happens to me so much. The only answer I've come up with is that I choose to notice them.

It's all a part of the idea that I believe life is lived in the details. To think that anyone could
go through a day and not strive to see the intricate workings of life behind the scene, causes me to believe they have really not lived at all.

"She's trying to fit in. She's making every effort to stay and yet, she's leaving."

That's how I explained it to my wife.

Over the last few days I've noticed a small bird lingering a bit longer at one of the four feeders I have in my yard. I found it nestled in the bottom of one of the open feeders. It just sat there. The other birds had their fill, but it remained behind. I've seen this before. I knew immediately
that this one was left wanting. Not wanting more food. I always keep them filled. I sensed it just wanted company.

The bird book lists it as a female House Sparrow, a fairly common bird with no real outstanding looks. Brown, white, a little gray on its belly. It just blends into the world.

So, why would anyone notice?

I choose to. I take time to see the extraordinary in otherwise ordinary things.

One feather on its back was sticking out. Now you know a female of any species would never go out looking like that. It had to be ill.

One larger bird suddenly appeared on a nearby limb. The tiny bird looked up in anticipation.

Company?

No, it came to take over its spot.

Startled, the small bird struggled at first, then with whatever strength it had, flew a few feet landing in short ground cover nearby. I waited a minute to see what it would do.

Rising up, it spread its wings and flew to the lilac bush. I thought perhaps I was reading too much into this. Maybe this bird was okay. Maybe it was really just having a lazy day appearing to be sick when it wasn't.

Over the next few days it would return. Again and again it stood out for me. Now looking "puffed up" and ruffled, I was convinced there was a problem.

Once landing on my roof within reach, I raised my hand trying to convince her that I was friendly enough to accept. She wasn't convinced.

Then yesterday my wife stepped outside with my three dogs and called for me. Apparently one of the dogs found it on the ground near the fence. It scampered away, tumbling down a small
embankment into the driveway next door.

Marianne knows me well. She knew that I would want to help if I could. When I came outside she pointed to where the bird had landed. I climbed over the small fence and slowly approached it.

Getting within a few feet, I stooped down.

"It's time, isn't it?" I said to my friend.

"You keep coming back. You're trying desperately to be a part of it all and yet, you know it's time."

My wife would not find this conversation I was having with a sparrow unusual at all. In fact, she worries more about how it will affect me. I hate goodbyes.

A few years ago, in my yard, I saw a similar bird. It was a female Northern Cardinal in the last moments. It actually crawled to me and upon picking it up took its last breath as I held it.

An incredible gift to be a part of that moment.

But this was not to be a repeat. The Sparrow suddenly flew off low to the ground and reached a nearby evergreen.

There would be impossible odds that I would see it again let alone be there when it passed.

Now, I have often times been accused of making up stories. Most of these things would appear to be fiction in the minds of those who do not live in the details of life.

But, this is how this story will end.

As I sat here trying to decide what I would write about today, the memory of that bird came dancing into my morning.

I didn't struggle at all about how to tell it. I write from my heart.

About half way through writing it, I noticed our newest member of the family, Phil, was edging near the back door. Still in his training stage I thought it to be a good idea to take him outside. Of course, Ricky and Lucy joined us.

The three dogs rushed out at the same time and suddenly stopped at the very edge of the deck.

I looked down. Yes, it was over. The small House Sparrow lie on its side in front of me.

I shook my head in disbelief. Even I, after all these final moments, all of these last goodbyes of God's creation, found this to be unbelievable. What were the chances that it would die there? What were the chances that I would get up this morning to write a story for you and decide to tell this one. What were the chances that in the middle of writing it, my dog would need to go outside? What were the chances that she would be there at the very edge of my deck?

I, in my most creative mind couldn't make this up.

I have placed the bird with the others, under a rock in my garden.

I stepped back and a small breeze made the branches of the guardian tree overlooking the grave, wave slowly in gratitude for having cared at all.

Please, take notice of the details in this day. They don't just happen.

Like this small bird, they are "trying to fit in" before it's too late.

"I believe in you!"
Bob

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