The Birds (Holding Fast)

I look outside my window. Advent has begun, and God sent the snows just before... a little preamble to Christmas. The snow covers over the muck and the dirt and the brown of late November and everything suddenly becomes quiet and peaceful and clean. A perfect picture of what Advent is: we are looking forward to the coming of Christ, the great Redeemer, the only One who can truly cleans our souls and minds.

I look outside again. A flock of small brown, fluffy birds has nestled themselves in the tree right beside our apartment building's parking lot... not three feet from the window I peer out of. Their feathers look more like wool coats, maybe made from bear hides. I wonder a bit... pondering the idea of 10 fluffy little sparrows taking down a brown bear. I've seen God do stranger things.

The snow on the branches is slippery. It snowed a good 3 to 4 inches last night and dropped below freezing to boot, plastering the snow that was melted back to the tree creating a dangerous combination of snow and ice. Most of the birds realize this as soon as they land. One, stubborn little bugger, refuses to give up his branch. Losing his grip, he hops to a branch higher up, ruffles his feathers, and gets a good firm hold on the new branch of his choosing. He is solid, he will not be moved. His beak puckers up with resolve. Somewhere in the distance this friends call out: "You've proved your point. Come on! Worm popsicles over here!"

He smiles, as only a bird can. He'll show that tree a thing or two next time.