Earlier in the spring, I watched Mr. & Mrs. build their nest.  It has been an on-going narrative ever since and this morning, I buried one of the young ones.  I was so sad about it that I had to write. Just the other day, my cousin and I watched from the kitchen window, as Ma and Pa flew back and forth, frantically filling two small mouths with seed remnants.  The cries/peeps of hunger didn’t let up until the sun went down.  Ma & Pa were beginning to prompt these two babes of theirs out of the nest and little heads began to move beyond the edge of the nest and into the great big world.

I guess some time last evening this wee babe failed a flying lesson and/or got caught in the hail.  I picked the soft limp body up from the grass, just below the nest.  Typically repulsed by such discoveries, this morning, this small lifeless body could only be approached and handled with tenderness. It was tended with such intuitive strength these past days, by Mr. & Mrs.

I was thinking about all that goes into raising children…all the small acts of sacrifice and then there are no guarantees that all is going to work out.  Parents lose their children…or one day, a child sets out to ‘take flight’ and life nails him/her with a cold and angry storm.

Powerful life lessons can be observed in nature.  I am blessed by the sacrifices that  my own parents have made.  They did a darned good job with the resources they had.  I am grateful, Mom & Dad.