Little Birdies

I've not been in much of a writing mood this week. A little tired out mentally. Plus, very busy, with an Ash Wednesday service this week, a new Bible study for Lent, a wedding tomorrow (Saturday), and me trying to catch up on everything after my unexpected trip out of town last week.

This morning, however, as I ate breakfast (a delicious bowl of Triple-Berry O's from Trader Joe's, yum!), I looked out the east-facing sliding glass door in the dining room, and watched the sun rise over the distant Sierra Nevada and try to break through the clouds.

I also noticed, on the patio, a small brown bird, and then another, and then another, hopping along on the cement, just a few feet from where I was sitting. How little I know about these birds, I thought. I don't even know what they're called. Are they sparrows? Finches? How many days have they been there, and I never saw them? How many songs have they sung, and I never listened?

I'm not sure why, but I've been thinking about those little birds all day long. Maybe they were trying to tell me something; maybe they were saying, how many other things have you not been noticing---your family, your children, your friends, the world around you? Or maybe they weren't trying to tell me anything at all, except to just be still and be present, and to stop trying to find deep, complex meanings in everything, and just enjoy the moment. That, too, I need to hear.