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I have a soft spot in my heart for birds.
Maybe it’s because we had parakeets as pets when I was a small child. Maybe it’s because I think they are often cute and pretty and amazing because most of them can fly. Or maybe it’s just because my maiden name was Starling and now I’m married to a Crow(e).
At any rate, when I heard some squeaking early this morning, I knew our cat Caroline had captured some critter and brought it into the house. Sure enough, the squeaker was a little bird with cute round eyes and red-tinged feathers.
Caroline had set it down on the floor, so I gathered it up and carried it out to the wide railing on our back porch. I asked it if it was OK, and it squeaked back and answered my question by flying away.
I doubt the bird knew when I picked it up that it was now in good hands, not in the dangerous mouth of my predator puss. I feel glad I saved it to fly around again and perhaps even to visit our bird feeder at some point. Maybe it didn’t even know that Caroline could have made a meal out of it if she weren’t so stuffed with kitty chow.
As I think about birds, I am reminded of the scripture from the book of Matthew: “Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” (6:26).
I also think about the old hymn that tells us: “Rescue the perishing, care for the dying, Jesus is merciful, Jesus will save.” I saved the little bird who could very well die. I am even merciful to other critters that Caroline brings in, including baby snakes!
The question I’m wondering, though, is who is holding us birdies? Are we in the hands of a merciful God or in the mouth of Satan?
Donna Crowe is a minister’s wife.