Was chking thru my email juz den n found sth realli interesting...here it goes....
The Making of a Miracle
Struggles often times end up as miracles. I saw a miracle recently; it was not without struggles.
Our grandchildren, Sam and Kaylin, were here visiting with us this spring from Arizona when we noticed a bird's nest in the neighbor's tree next door. It was a perfect little nest that must have taken much time and effort to construct. The tree was situated close to our deck and easily within eye range.
In Phoenix, Arizona, they have different birds than most of those found here in Illinois. One bird they don't have there is the robin. My grandson, Sam, has always been fond of robins. Every trip back here to the Midwest to visit always finds Sam pointing them out.
We were sitting out on our deck eating lunch when I noticed the robin fly to her nest. I was quick to alert Kaylin and Sam to the bird's activity. They, like I, was amazed to witnesses the wonder that transpired: Up popped three long necks from out of the nest. The momma bird fed the babies and flew away, only to return again and again with more nourishment.
The baby bird's necks seemed to extend each time way beyond the size of their bodies. They were hungry little fellows, eager to partake of more than their portion. All three baby birds struggled to be the one fed first when momma appeared.
After the grandkids left, Bill and I continued to watch the robins protect, raise and feed their babies. While one parent went looking for food, the other kept a watchful eye out from a nearby branch or power line, just in case a predator might happen to attack their family.
One day, a squirrel playing at the base of the tree was reprimanded and chased off by one of the parent robins. The squirrel got the message and found another tree in which to play.
I was amazed at the speed at which the babies grew. Soon, they had gown enough that more than their necks could be seen beyond the sides of the nest.
Before long, the nest appeared crowded. Three birds in such a small space; I was afraid one might fall from the perch.
The activity in the neighbor's tree became something I looked forward to watching each day. From my window, I could observe the labor of love that was transpiring. On days the weather allowed, I found myself venturing out on the deck to get a panoramic view of the all God was opening up to the growing family of baby birds.
The day they began to discover their wings, I found myself smiling. One little fellow stretched out and flapped his wings, filling the nest and causing a struggle for space. I held my breath; he was too young yet to fly. He didn't; he was only exercising for future attempts.
Time passed and the trashing about continued; one bird seemed to be the dominant sibling. He appeared larger than the other two, and his wings seemed stronger; perhaps he had been the one with the longest neck and the widest mouth.
Soon, the babies began to venture from inside to the edge of the nest to meet the source of their food as it was specially delivered. This was my first time to have such a clear view and be able to watch the uniqueness of a family of birds as they raised and encouraged their young. I was transfixed to their labor of love.
One morning, I checked the nest, and there was the bravest of all three, being tempted by the big, wide wonderful world around him. You could sense his eagerness to greet the day. He was perched on the edge of the nest, flapping his wings.
I took my pen and paper and my Bible out on to the deck and sat down in a chair, preparing to spend some time letting the birds or God speak and teach me a lesson that day.
It didn't take long. With one sweeping motion of effort, the baby bird finally flapped his wings one last time and lifted up off of his nest.
He made it!
He made it to a near by tree, and on he ventured. His courage and persistence had finally paid off; what first seemed scary was now behind him, and he knew new heights were ahead.
Life is like that. Often, what seems so scary at its inception, after being conquered can lead to reassurance, confidence and the beginning of greater things. What seems impossible can be a feasible probability when the window of opportunity is opened.
When struggles produce strength, anything is capable of being overcome. In feeding each other a little encouragement, we give them the confidence they need to scale mountains.
The next day, I missed the flight and found the nest occupied by only one bird. We often can be an example to those who follow after us. I was sad I had missed the second bird's flight, but knew he, too, was stronger now for having gone out on a leap of faith.
One bird was left, and you could feel his eagerness and his fear. He spent the morning on the edge of his nest, looking out over the vastness. He flapped his wings, but was reluctant. You could feel his loneliness at being left behind, his fear in the unknown and his enthusiasm to know what lay beyond his nest's security.
Sometimes, fear stifles us and keeps us from becoming what we were meant to be. The unknown keeps us, many times, from breaking free of the familiar and experiencing the vastness available to us.
I had to turn from my observation for a moment, and when I returned, I found the nest empty. Courage had overtaken the last bird, and he evidently found a great big wide wonderful world waiting for him.
Conquered fear is often the beginning of greatness.
As my mornings continued, I missed the activity in our neighbor's yard. I missed the tenderness and nurturing, the spirit and boldness born of fear. I missed the togetherness and labor of love, the competitiveness, yet the family unity. I missed the search for completeness, the will, adventure and the skills of survival.
I missed all the lessons of life.
This morning, a storm came through, and though I knew the nest had been vacated, I checked on its condition. It was still there, having withstood the winds and the rains.
Hard work always stands the test of time.
I wondered about the birds, where they were and if they were safe, knowing there are always struggles in life.
The sun is out now; there's always a rainbow after the rain. There's always a new day, a new beginning. If God watches after the birds of the air, my friend, He will look after you.
Life is hard, but it's worth it. Life is full of miracles, and don't forget, struggles oftentimes end up as miracles.
Each day that you struggle makes you stronger, until you look about and see that, indeed, you have become part of a much bigger miracle.
Life is like that.
I hope that you see the miracle you are, standing amidst the other miracles struggling in this world.
Betty King
Betty King is an author, freelance writer, newspaper columnist and speaker. Visit her website www.bettyking.net or email her at baking2@charter.net
The Making of a Miracle
Struggles often times end up as miracles. I saw a miracle recently; it was not without struggles.
Our grandchildren, Sam and Kaylin, were here visiting with us this spring from Arizona when we noticed a bird's nest in the neighbor's tree next door. It was a perfect little nest that must have taken much time and effort to construct. The tree was situated close to our deck and easily within eye range.
In Phoenix, Arizona, they have different birds than most of those found here in Illinois. One bird they don't have there is the robin. My grandson, Sam, has always been fond of robins. Every trip back here to the Midwest to visit always finds Sam pointing them out.
We were sitting out on our deck eating lunch when I noticed the robin fly to her nest. I was quick to alert Kaylin and Sam to the bird's activity. They, like I, was amazed to witnesses the wonder that transpired: Up popped three long necks from out of the nest. The momma bird fed the babies and flew away, only to return again and again with more nourishment.
The baby bird's necks seemed to extend each time way beyond the size of their bodies. They were hungry little fellows, eager to partake of more than their portion. All three baby birds struggled to be the one fed first when momma appeared.
After the grandkids left, Bill and I continued to watch the robins protect, raise and feed their babies. While one parent went looking for food, the other kept a watchful eye out from a nearby branch or power line, just in case a predator might happen to attack their family.
One day, a squirrel playing at the base of the tree was reprimanded and chased off by one of the parent robins. The squirrel got the message and found another tree in which to play.
I was amazed at the speed at which the babies grew. Soon, they had gown enough that more than their necks could be seen beyond the sides of the nest.
Before long, the nest appeared crowded. Three birds in such a small space; I was afraid one might fall from the perch.
The activity in the neighbor's tree became something I looked forward to watching each day. From my window, I could observe the labor of love that was transpiring. On days the weather allowed, I found myself venturing out on the deck to get a panoramic view of the all God was opening up to the growing family of baby birds.
The day they began to discover their wings, I found myself smiling. One little fellow stretched out and flapped his wings, filling the nest and causing a struggle for space. I held my breath; he was too young yet to fly. He didn't; he was only exercising for future attempts.
Time passed and the trashing about continued; one bird seemed to be the dominant sibling. He appeared larger than the other two, and his wings seemed stronger; perhaps he had been the one with the longest neck and the widest mouth.
Soon, the babies began to venture from inside to the edge of the nest to meet the source of their food as it was specially delivered. This was my first time to have such a clear view and be able to watch the uniqueness of a family of birds as they raised and encouraged their young. I was transfixed to their labor of love.
One morning, I checked the nest, and there was the bravest of all three, being tempted by the big, wide wonderful world around him. You could sense his eagerness to greet the day. He was perched on the edge of the nest, flapping his wings.
I took my pen and paper and my Bible out on to the deck and sat down in a chair, preparing to spend some time letting the birds or God speak and teach me a lesson that day.
It didn't take long. With one sweeping motion of effort, the baby bird finally flapped his wings one last time and lifted up off of his nest.
He made it!
He made it to a near by tree, and on he ventured. His courage and persistence had finally paid off; what first seemed scary was now behind him, and he knew new heights were ahead.
Life is like that. Often, what seems so scary at its inception, after being conquered can lead to reassurance, confidence and the beginning of greater things. What seems impossible can be a feasible probability when the window of opportunity is opened.
When struggles produce strength, anything is capable of being overcome. In feeding each other a little encouragement, we give them the confidence they need to scale mountains.
The next day, I missed the flight and found the nest occupied by only one bird. We often can be an example to those who follow after us. I was sad I had missed the second bird's flight, but knew he, too, was stronger now for having gone out on a leap of faith.
One bird was left, and you could feel his eagerness and his fear. He spent the morning on the edge of his nest, looking out over the vastness. He flapped his wings, but was reluctant. You could feel his loneliness at being left behind, his fear in the unknown and his enthusiasm to know what lay beyond his nest's security.
Sometimes, fear stifles us and keeps us from becoming what we were meant to be. The unknown keeps us, many times, from breaking free of the familiar and experiencing the vastness available to us.
I had to turn from my observation for a moment, and when I returned, I found the nest empty. Courage had overtaken the last bird, and he evidently found a great big wide wonderful world waiting for him.
Conquered fear is often the beginning of greatness.
As my mornings continued, I missed the activity in our neighbor's yard. I missed the tenderness and nurturing, the spirit and boldness born of fear. I missed the togetherness and labor of love, the competitiveness, yet the family unity. I missed the search for completeness, the will, adventure and the skills of survival.
I missed all the lessons of life.
This morning, a storm came through, and though I knew the nest had been vacated, I checked on its condition. It was still there, having withstood the winds and the rains.
Hard work always stands the test of time.
I wondered about the birds, where they were and if they were safe, knowing there are always struggles in life.
The sun is out now; there's always a rainbow after the rain. There's always a new day, a new beginning. If God watches after the birds of the air, my friend, He will look after you.
Life is hard, but it's worth it. Life is full of miracles, and don't forget, struggles oftentimes end up as miracles.
Each day that you struggle makes you stronger, until you look about and see that, indeed, you have become part of a much bigger miracle.
Life is like that.
I hope that you see the miracle you are, standing amidst the other miracles struggling in this world.
Betty King
Betty King is an author, freelance writer, newspaper columnist and speaker. Visit her website www.bettyking.net or email her at baking2@charter.net
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