Yes, another bird! And in case you can't see what this is due to my extremely limited photographic skills, this is a cardinal (well, and also the back of a battered, well-traveled Suburban--the cardinal is the tiny red blob perched on the bird feeder in the foreground. Ansel Adams, I'm not. But trust me, he was beautiful.) Yes, I am obsessed with cardinals. In case you have not read this before, I LOVE cardinals, for cardinals are kind of my "little thing" with God: whenever I see a bright red daddy cardinal, that is always God's little whispered reminder to me that He loves me. And I always whisper back, "I love You, too, Lord!" O how I love to glimpse these candy-apple red gifts flitting across my path. I never tire of spotting one, and I never tire of hearing my Savior's "I love you!"
What a joy it is to watch various feathered friends come and dine at our bird feeder. I am no bird expert, so I could hardly name a one save the cardinals, blue jays (who are mean but spectacular looking--reminds me of some middle schoolers I knew long ago), mocking birds (fabulous singers and fiercely protective of their nests--I've seen them take on a hawk! Love that courage... or foolhardiness), and dove (sorry, but they are sort of bland--but you gotta love their gentle cooing). Much to my husband's chagrin, I buy the ultra high test bird food. Whatever says it attracts song birds and costs a lot, that's the brand I pick. I realize this is not an ideal or thrifty way to shop. I'm hoping my husband is not reading this. But the birds really appreciate it.
Unfortunately, the birds are not the only ones who appreciate it, however:
If you could actually see this little squirrel, he is admittedly kind of cute. Okay, he's very cute. God doesn't make mistakes, and He did a fine job creating squirrels. All that being said, I really really really don't appreciate the squirrels eating our fancy-smancy bird food and scaring away the birds. At least once or twice a day, I run screaming outside, yelling at the squirrel to scare him away. This seems to be losing it's effectiveness. I now have to run right up to the bird feeder and wave my arms threateningly, gesticulating increasingly wildly, to get him to finally jump down. But now he's beginning to fix his beady little eyes on me and dare me--"Yeah, yeah, whatta you got? I can take you down, old lady; just try me." This is making my blood pressure rise just thinking about it. But it is also embarrassing my children. Too bad--I've got birds to protect.
Whenever I see that pesky little guy, I can't help but think of that verse from Song of Solomon: "Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes that spoil the vineyards, for our vineyards are in blossom." (Song of Sol. 2:15) Squirrel and fox, bird-feeder and vineyard... and the petty little annoyances and irritations that we allow to slip into our lives, stealing our joy, spoiling our witness, circumventing the harmony and hope in our families.
In Old Testament times, whenever foxes would slip into the vineyards, they would eat the grapes and destroy the crop. Such small, insignificant creatures, yet they could slowly, inexorably do a world of damage. Solomon is warning that it it is the "little foxes" in our lives that can damage and even destroy our love for others. Petty little irritations, small secretly harbored bitterness against someone, tiny pockets of resentment, unconscious score-keeping (I think to myself, "I always do the dishes, or he never thinks to take out the trash or I never get a break or she always forgets that" on and on). Such little, small, sometimes secret, sometimes expressed little annoyances that can rob our love of kindness and joy and gratitude. O forgive us, Father! Forgive me.
Mother Teresa always said that "All our trouble comes from looking around rather than looking up."
That's how the foxes slip into our lives--we are looking around, looking at what others have or don't have. Looking at what I (or my loved ones) lack or what we think we deserve. Looking everywhere except up. Looking up at the Savior. Looking up at the Cross. Looking up and seeing the Lord Jesus trudging to Calvary and willingly, lovingly, faithfully, bearing the betrayal and beatings and shame and mocking and humiliation and sorrow and pain that I, that you, deserved. Crawling onto the cross that bore my sin, feeling the nails pounded into His burning flesh that should have been my pain. And dying so that I, so that you, might live. LIVE. FOREVER.
And in light of all that, I fret over.. what? My petty little grievances? My selfish small annoyances? My ridiculous list of what I think I deserve? When He has done all that... for me, for you?
Forget the foxes! Focus on the Father! See your grievances in light of His grace. And be amazed at His goodness and greatness and glory. Stop worrying about the squirrels--enjoy the cardinals and blue jays and mocking birds and dove! There is so much in this good life to be overflowing with gratitude to our gloriously generous God. Maybe if we spent more time thanking Him we'd have less time for complaining. Maybe if we'd focus more on the Father, we'd force the foxes out of the vineyards. And maybe we would discover not only more love for our Lord and for the people He's placed in our lives (even the ones that sometimes can grate against us), but also more joy, more hope, more peace even in the midst of our busy vineyards.
Look up to the cross--be thankful, be changed. I love how C.J.Mahaney put it: "Move on to rejoicing in the Savior who came to save the worst of sinners. Lay down the luggage of condemnation and kneel in worship at the feet of Him who bore your sins. Cry tears of amazement."
Forget the foxes; focus on the Father. Don't worry about the squirrels; worship the Savior. And don't forget to thank Him for all His gifts along the way--including the cardinals! To God be the glory.
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