The window outside the room where we pray the Divine Office looks onto the porch of our old farmhouse. The porch wraps around two thirds each of the west and south sides and its roof is supported by brick pillars. Each of the four pillars has a ledge on the inside of the porch about eight inches from the roof. And on the top of one of the ledges, a robin pair has made a nest.
The intricately woven thing is a wonder to behold because when watching the robins bring various pieces of dried grass and weeds it seemed impossible that something so flimsy would ever hold together. Nonetheless, it is now a masterfully woven nest and in it resided, until a few days, four perfectly robin’s egg blue eggs. Now, however, where there had been eggs there are four oddly shaped, naked except for a few bits of fuzz, bundles of robin potential.
At least one of the pair sits on the nest, ever watchful for intruders. When anyone goes to get the newspaper or water the flowers, she (or he) flies away quite noisily and proceeds to sit in the yard and scold. On one of those occasions I took a picture of the nest’s contents with my cellphone, to see what the fuss was about. The chicks inside, on seeing motion, immediately opened their mouths trusting something good was coming their way.
I thought of the utter helplessness of these creatures. And I prayed that I might have that same trusting confidence, even though I have long ago grown out of the human version of the chick stage, that God would just as faithfully care for me in my spiritual dependence and vulnerability.
– Blog entry by a Sister of the Precious Blood