After I got home today, I looked out our kitchen windows and noticed this bird's nest on the ground. Surprised that it hadn't already been taken hostage by our neighborhood boys and considering that Jeff would likely love to examine the nest more closely, I headed outside to pick it up and bring it onto our back deck. It was in a fragile state, so, as I tried to figure out how to cradle it gently in my hands, I noticed the tiny cracked eggshell inside and another one on the ground nearby. As carefully as I could, I put the second egg back into the nest, gingerly lifted the whole bundle, and brought it onto the deck.
A few moments later, back inside, I began to think of the poor mama bird whose chicks hadn't made it out of their shells. My thoughts drifted to the waiting period we're in right now. Was this a sign that our current cycle won't result in pregnancy? Was it going to bring me to tears as I focused on our own loss? I tentatively checked in with myself only to discover, with a substantial amount of relief and surprise, that I was just fine.
In fact, I was more than fine--I could even find joy in this potential moment of sadness. What a beautiful gift for me to discover--this delicately woven nest that I got to examine up close simply because its fall had been gentle enough to preserve both its structure and its contents.
How remarkable it is to observe the way God has grown and healed me and prepared my heart for the new life we pray will soon be in our future.
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