The Blind Finch

This week our focus in Sunday School was on "awareness of creation." We were encouraged to not only spend time exploring silence but also to be outside in order to observe God's creation. To be still. To stop activity and sit or stand until we see and hear things we haven't seen or heard or paid attention to in a long time. Like birds singing or moisture dripping from leaves after a rain storm. Like crickets or bumble bees. Like thrashing branches as squirrels leap from tree to tree, invisible to the eye but vibrant to the ears. And if quiet enough, long enough, maybe even hear God's voice for a moment or sense his Spirit in the swirling morning mist. Who knew what would happen if we were silent, still, and open.

The sun had risen, though still well hidden behind the thick wood-stand behind our house. The pre-dawn fog had faded to a cooling mist as I stood in our back yard. The sky turned from gray overcast to blue. I was quiet. I was looking. I was listening. Five feet away were our bird feeders, assorted shapes and sizes filled with song bird mix, thistle, and dried meal worms. Birds are part of our landscape--a multicolored winged pallet of God's colors. The quiet, the bird food, the woods provided a wonderful place to be aware of Creation.

Those of you who follow our blog know about our birds. Birds that God loans to us each day, week, month, year...to enjoy, laugh at, take photos of, and marvel over. And the usual suspects were here as I stood there: Chickadee, Cardinal, Goldfinch, Sparrow, Tit-Mouse, Carolina Wren, Blue Bird, Brown-headed Nuthatch...and a female House Finch. But this Finch was different. I moved closer, the wet lawn soaked my sneakers. All the other birds took off for the tree line. But not this Finch.

I moved closer still. She just sat and ate her food like I wasn't even there. The woods grew quiet. I talked to her in a gentle voice. "Hello, little Finch. What are you doing today?" I drew close enough to touch her.

I noticed her during my silent time yesterday and realized she was different. Calmer. I had even prayed for her as she didn't fly well. In fact, she flew in little flutters up and down a little forward, up and down a little forward...Hesitant, yet confident. But that was yesterday and today I was stroking her with my finger as she sat there and ate. She could not see. There was something wrong with her eyes. She was blind.

God's voice. Do you want to hear God's voice? Get up early, go outside, discover a blind bird, watch her eat to her belly's limit, let her climb onto your finger, and be aware of creation.

Photos by Karen