Our neighbors are getting a new roof.
This morning my husband ventured across the street to ask the workers about getting a bid for our roof and one of the men handed a baby humming bird to my kids. Said he’d found it on the sidewalk and wasn’t sure what to do.
From what I read, we basically just needed to put the bird back.
Now enter the tears.
We walked back to the tree, placed our sweet bird (“Chirrpy” apparently) on the ground beneath. And proceeded to watch…
Eventually a very frantic mama-hummingbird began to circle and I convinced my babies to give her some room so we returned back home.
Sad, and lonely.
I read online that it is typical for baby birds to fall from their nest and be forced to hop around the base of the tree for a few days until their muscles get strong enough for flight. They have to fall, they have to practice and struggle.
There’s so much truth and beauty in the parallel that I see between this sweet little bird and my own baby flyers.
They have to be allowed to fall.
This is also my babies first experience with loving something and letting it go. Sure they only held this beauty for a couple minutes, but in those few moments Chirrpy captured their hearts.
It was beautiful, and tragic.
I want to wrap my babies in my arms, and keep them little, and safe, and always with me. But they long to fly, to grow, to live dangerous-wonderfilled lives.
I have to let them stretch, and struggle, and grow strong.
So many lessons in such a brief encounter with nature.
I am thankful. . .
for so much.