Friday, June 5, 2009
The Little Builder
Something just happened tonight that has made me so sad I could cry.
First, I will start with the little builder who has recently brought a smile to my family's faces.
A few months ago, we added a new outdoor Spring wreath to our front door. Made of dry twigs and adorned with silk flowers (looking somewhat like cherry blossoms), this wreath oddly enough became the new home for a sweet little bird who decided to build a nest right on top of it. It was quite silly really, and something we chuckled about considering the bird chose our artificial wreath over trees surrounding the area. As we daily came in and out of our home, opening and slamming the door, we would inevitably scare the poor bird away to hiding. When the coast was clear, he would regain confidence and continue on with his construction, carefully collecting materials for what would soon be the home of new little builders.
Then came the horror. Tonight, as I was walking toward my front door, I noticed something on my front porch. The wreath had fallen! Frantic, I looked around, and there it was...one beautiful egg right on our porch. I ran inside the house and grabbed a spoon to see if I could save the egg (what else in the world would I use?), and called my Step-Dad Michael over to see if we could at muster up a better, more reliable way to hang the wreath back up and save the egg. Bending down to take a closer look, spoon in hand, I suddenly noticed a crack in the eggshell. Sadness shot through my soul for the little determined builder who had spent so much time constructing this home, regardless of any fears he had every second that we opened and closed our door, for a baby that would not come to be.
Suddenly, it dawned on me that this was probably not the only egg. Grabbing a flashlight, Michael and I intently searched the wreath to see if any other eggs had fallen out of their nest and into the wreath twigs.
And there they were, broken shells, and next to that, a fetus.
What happened God? Why did our little builder have to lose his little ones so prematurely? Where did he flee to when he realized what had happened?
I am then reminded that this world, like the stupid wreath, has fallen, yet, despite being originally intended to stay up strong. I am reminded of the mothers and fathers who have lost their own little ones, and I want to weep. I am also reminded of some words from Luke. "Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." I am blown away. Lord, you haven't even forgotten those precious little builders? And we humans, as messed up as we are, are worth more than many of them?
I end this blog in thanks to the Master Builder who knows the number of hairs on our heads, and has not forgotten about even one little builder.