TINY BIRD written by Author Kim Meeder Those who know me well are aware of my passion for the outdoors. For the times when I must be inside, I’ve strategically stationed bird feeders to draw the beautiful activity of the wild into my view. Not long ago, I nestled into my office with a hot cup of coffee in hand and an old beloved quilt across my lap. Outside my window, I had just scattered birdseed across a downy blanket of new fallen snow. Unable to access their usual fare through the frozen white, the birds showed their pure gratitude by gliding down into the yard in great numbers. Soon, the entire scene was filled with the delightful chatter of happy birds enjoying breakfast. Suddenly, there was a whirring storm of wings as the panicked flock took flight. A zillion birds darted a zillion different directions as a large Cooper’s Hawk swooped through the yard. In the frenzy to escape, a small bird smashed into my office window only inches from my face. The impact knocked the bird unconscious and it fell upside down onto the woodpile below the windowsill. Looking at it intently, I studied the tiny bird. It was a Junco, known in this region as a snowbird. The slightly muted coloration told me it was a female. She was still on her back when her tiny legs began to move. She appeared to be searching for something to grasp to right herself. Finding nothing but cold, I watched the perfect legs struggle less and less—then—not at all. She was dying. “Lord? How can this be right? How can this be Your will? This is a meaningless death... why?” I searched.
The little snowbird’s head was now atop her shoulders, right where it should be. Captured by this tiny miracle, I watched, completely transfixed. Held fast within the power of this transformation, it occurred to me that horses are similar in reaction when cast on their back. They’ll try to right themselves for a while, but once they BELIEVE they cannot rise, they stop trying. Left in this upside-down position, death is imminent.
“Lord? How can this be right? How can this be Your will? This is a meaningless death... why?”
Then, in the stillness, I heard, “Look at her. Look AT her!” I did. The beautiful slender legs were slowly sliding apart as she was leaving this life. “She has been knocked out of balance... she was not created to live in THIS position... set her RIGHT.” The old quilt flew off my lap as I dashed out of my office toward the back door. When I reached the bird, a single thought crossed my mind:, “How?” What followed was more image than phrase, but the words I sensed were, “Gentle, gentle, gentle.” Using two fingers from my left hand and the index finger on my right, I carefully lifted the bird only high enough to rotate her back onto her feet. In doing so, I watched the tiny bird’s head slide deeply to the side. Her neck appeared broken. This rescue attempt was futile. My “But God? This is hopeless” was crushed before I even finished the thought with, “DO IT! Don’t trust what you think you know—trust the One you know—trust ME.” In obedience, I gently propped the tiny bird against a piece of firewood and quietly made my way back into the office. Once the frayed quilt was replaced on my lap, I rotated my chair back toward the window and moved up as close as I could get.
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“JESUS!” I gasped in awe.
Soon, the snowbird’s beautiful black eyes began to blink... her thought process was returning. After several long moments, she shook once and then flew away. “Wow, Lord! SPEAK!”
Through the quiet of dawn, I could hear deep within, “Gentle, gentle, gentle—this is what I am calling you to do for those around you. Help them regain their balance in My love. Some will accept being rebalanced and will immediately take flight, soaring deeper into My presence. Others will not accept being rebalanced and will choose to return to an upside-down existence of self-imposed pain and bitterness. Beloved, yours is to not make such a call for them... yours is to listen closely and simply do what I say. To secure those around you with My love... this is what I’m calling all My people to do.” Recently, I traveled to northern California to visit some dear family friends. They were my childhood neighbors when I still lived with my parents. Katie, a woman of my mother’s age, was a new Believer when she heard the tragic news of how my distraught father had murdered my mother and then taken his own life. Left behind were three orphaned girls. In her young faith, she did what mattered most... she started to pray for the daughters. All Katie knew was that the girls had been taken away. She prayed for them for years—decades—never knowing what happened. She just kept praying that somehow, through the pain, they would meet Jesus. One day, her pest control man solemnly knocked on her door. Upon answering, he gave Katie a book and simply said, “I know you love kids and horses, so I know you will love this book.” Then he burst into tears, jogged back to his work truck and drove away. Puzzled, Katie thought in agreement that she indeed loved kids, but knew nothing of horses. ‘What are you up to, Lord?’ she pondered.
