BLOGWORDS – Tuesday 28 February – CRICKETS
Back in 2009, while digging us out from two inches of snow that had somehow turned into a foot, my Patient Husband heard a crack. He looked up to see a pheasant fall to the ground at our garage doors. It had flown straight into the side of our house.
Note to pheasants: the house is bigger than you. It will not care that you are coming, and it will not get out of the way.
Note to readers: pheasants are stupid. There’s no way to gloss that fact.
It landed about two feet away from my Patient Husband and his snow blower, but it didn’t move. Eventually he turned off the machine and chased it away. It half-wobbled, half-flew to a cluster of trees in front of the house, near the road.
When he told me, I said, “It’s concussed?” He thought so.
And my first thought was, if it’s dead (because birds have light bones, and that kind of impact might have broken several) maybe I should go get it.
I mean, that’s what Ma Ingalls would have done, right? She’d have gone out, cleaned and dressed the bird, and everyone would have dined on Providence-Delivered Pheasant, the best take-out meal. God gave Moses quail in the desert, and our family would have received a pheasant.
I procrastinated. Even though I live in the Swamp nowadays, I’m a city girl, and the idea of eating something that wasn’t shrink-wrapped and slapped with a sell-by date…well, that’s just weird.
I still had no idea what to do an hour later when I looked out the window to discover a pheasant poking around in the trees at the front of the house. I didn’t need to go retrieve the pheasant carcass because the pheasant was still using it! This made my decision a lot easier. Or at least, it made my cowardice a lot less noticeable.
(Okay, everyone, go ahead and make the pun you’re dying to, about how I chickened out. Do it. You’ll feel better. Really. See now? Isn’t that better.)
I feel a kind of kinship with that pheasant. I imagine my soul, cruising along, and God’s saying, “That big thing, the thing in front of you? Avoid that? Like, turn…? Avoid it? Because it’s a house and you’ve got hollow bones…?” and then WHAM! I slam right in to whatever sin I should have been avoiding and which would have been reasonably easy to avoid had I been paying attention. Spiritually speaking, I’m just not that smart.
But we’re made stupid by our own sins, and we’re surrounded by a sin-filled world. Jesus redeemed us, but the devil is still wandering around like a lion, a predator who would love to devour things that are small and stupid, things that are broken and didn’t come shrink-wrapped from the meat counter.
The writer Mark Shea is fond of saying, “Sin makes you stupid.” Therefore I would suggest it’s reasonable to pray, “Help me, God! I’m stupid.” He puts up with a lot from us, so He already knows.
But we aren’t done yet with the pheasant. The next morning, coming back from the school bus stop, I passed the same stand of trees and found the pheasant still there, and only about six feet from me!
And then I realized it was sitting in a pile of feathers. Oh dear, I though. It must be sick and it’s shedding.
And then I realized that wasn’t a pheasant. Oh dear, I thought. It’s a hawk.
And then I realized it wasn’t sitting in a pile of hawk feathers.
Oh dear, I thought.
It was a beautiful hawk. And, I would add, smarter than the pheasant. For, you see, hawks do not dither about wondering whether the pheasant has parasites or a sell-by date or was raised on organic corn. They’re entirely pragmatic. And pheasants are tasty.
And from this, I also derived a very important lesson: the world is a dangerous place when you are both stupid and tasty.
For years afterward, whenever I felt I was under spiritual attack, I would pray, “God, please help me. I’m stupid and tasty.” rem: too hilarious and oh-so-universal!
Live and learn. Or, don’t do either. I guess. Sometimes God gives those of us who are especially stupid a hands-on demonstration via Nature’s School.
Jane Lebak talks to angels, cats, and her kids. Only the angels listen to her, but the kids talk back. She lives in the Swamp, writing books and knitting socks, with the occasional foray into violin-playing. You’ll also find her blogging at QueryTracker.net, a resource for writers seeking agents and small publishers. Enjoy!
Posted in blog posts, blogwords, Sunday devotional, tagged #FPF, All the Birds, Birthday Celebration, blogwords, Front Porch Fellowship, Genesis, Give Thanks, Hidden Treasures, Precious in His Sight, Robin Blitz, Sunday Devotion on February 26, 2017| Leave a Comment »
I love my office. Or should I say my little nest. ‘Cause I don’t have a desk, I sit on the love seat with my stuff spread out around me, all within (relatively) easy reach.
Notes on who’s who in my novel? Right here by my side. Blog schedule for the year? Right under the ring binder of notes for the novel. (and on my Excel spreadsheet)
Okay, so office is a loose term but it works for me.
What I particularly love is my view out the front door—which is open when at all reasonable. You know, unless it’s just too cold or the afternoon sun is bearing down—or when I go to bed.
And I’ve noticed something on in the wood of the porch railing. A funny sort of knot that looks like a hummingbird.
(kinda like this—I forgot to snap the pic and it’s dark now… )
As I was looking at it today, Father whispered to me that the “bird” was hidden within that wood, that tree trunk all along, and nobody ever saw it till it was positioned just as it is outside my door. Just for me.
Hidden. A little quirky treasure. A delightful image for me because I love birds so much.
And as only Father can arrange it, I was at Hobby Lobby today with my friend, looking at framing options for one of her paintings. (She’s a very gifted artist.) And the piece that she’s looking to frame, says, “Diamond in the rough, Hidden in The Rock.”
He is our Rock. And we are hidden in Him. And we are a precious in His sight, a jewel of inestimable worth. Hidden in Him.
Today, as we wrap up the month of February and my blitz of feathers, my flock of robins—Robin Hendzel Bunting, Robin Johns Grant, Robin Patchen, Robin Bayne, Robin Caroll, Robin Lee Hatcher—and all my wonderful guest posts on birds—Merrillee Whren, C. Kevin Thompson, Joy Dekok, Jane Lebak (you won’t want to miss Jane’s post tomorrow, it’s hilarious)—I thought about all the gifts Father has given us.
Today it’s as simple as all my friends who contributed to my birthday month. Such a small thing but such a treasure to me.
And if I wasn’t looking, I’d never have seen it.
Posted in blog posts, blogwords, first line fridays, tagged #FLF, blogwords, First Line Friday, Robin E. Mason, Seasons Series, The Long Shadows of Summer, The Silent Song of Winter, The Tilting Leaves of Autumn, The Whispering Winds of Spring on February 24, 2017| 26 Comments »
note: I share my books this months because it’s my birthday month!
The southern town of Saisons lies at the crossroads between North and South, progressive and genteel antebellum life. Between East and West, between history and heritage, and new frontiers.
It’s 1912, in a world where slavery is dying and women’s rights are rising, and four young girls share a bond—and experience a tragedy.
Seasons is the telling of their stories and Mercedes Renaldi’s story is first in The Long Shadows of Summer.
Mercedes’s friend, Simone, comes to her and Mercedes must now keep her friend’s secret. But Mercedes finds more than she bargained for—keeping Simone’s secret from their friends Pearl and Scarlett—and then Mercedes discovers that they, too, have secrets.
But as Mercedes plays detective to her friends’ questions, she discovers something far more shocking—she herself is not who she thought she was.
She looked so familiar to me, but I couldn’t place her. Sitting on the bench like she was outside Hooper’s Market. Her hat was at a rakish angle, her cocoa colored hair perfectly coiffed. Seemed there were tears in her green eyes. I was certain I had never seen her before. But she reminded me of someone…
First time writing in first person—and I likessss it!!! As usual, this story and its characters have taken on a life of their own—and it’s been a roller coaster ride! By the time this posts on Friday, I hope to have typed the two magical words, THE END—and jumped into the second book. Long Shadows releases in July.
As she tells her story, Mercedes’ voice resonates like she’s talking to a friend. [I hope] the reader is drawn to love her as they become familiar with her struggles.
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