I watched him all morning, raring up, wings beating in a frenzy, attacking his reflection in the window over and over. In his eyes this was a formidable foe, matching his unrelenting zeal and aggression and (suspiciously) the same offensive maneuvers. The battle was painfully long but necessary considering what was at stake... his home, his mate, his nest.
A true protector does not wait to be encroached upon but sits as a watchman, looking to divert danger before it steps into his territory. He positions himself between harm and home, as a soldier, risking life and wing to protect. Devoted to what has been entrusted to him, he will catch a flicker of light and red in a window and take those as fighting words. What glory that is to his home.
It was on a walk when I first encountered the confetti of Fall. Gold and gray feathered leaves were falling like tickertape on my parade, when I realized many of these “fallers” were flying... all around me. Snout-nosed butterflies, dressed like the leaves of the nearby shedding trees, were fluttering on the gusts of wind before my face and down my path on their sporadic migration somewhere north. I pretended to hear their pants as their ashy and rust feather wings beat against the breeze, dodging the falling obstacles near their size. I gleefully watched as hundreds and hundreds moved upward in joy when the whole world said “go south.” Not all things fall in the Fall.
Change has the potential to shed us from what seems stable and cause us to drift down into despair. But change also ushers in a breeze, a breath, on which we can fly... somewhere north. Flying is just a thousand little flits and flutters of faith - when you don’t know where the wind is taking you, but you trust the wind is good. (John 3:8)
“Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements—surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone...? (Job 38:4-6)