Like a Robin...

There is a new robin's nest resting snugly in the aspen tree right outside our family room windows.  The nest is just below eye level so we can kneel backwards on our couch and watch the nest without disturbing the birds doing their bird things, just a foot or two away. Right now there are three little blue eggs in the nest.

We had a cold rainy weekend. For days the mother robin spread her wings to cover the nest as she huddled down over the eggs, rain dripping off her head and tail.

We grilled hamburgers Saturday evening, just a few feet away from the nest. Every time we lifted the lid on the grill, the startled mother bird left the nest, flew to the fence and issued a frantic string of robin obscenities. As soon as we disappeared back inside the house she'd be back on the nest. At the risk of over-anthropomorphizing, she seemed to me to be sitting there sulking.

I think I know how she felt. My stepdaughter had the kind of rough weekend sleep deprived, strong-willed, hormonal, early adolescents are prone to. Every few minutes something angered her, she fluttered away squawking about her own innocence, and the guilt of whoever offended her. Generally, it was me.  I, the "mature", hormonal, PMSing woman, responded by getting my own feathers ruffled. The main difference between us being that I spent the entire weekend making a less-than-successful attempt to do my own seething internally.

Now comes the part of the blog where I draw a nice neat little application, mix in an appropriate Bible verse, and tell you all how to avoid reacting to the pains and frustrations in your life the way mother robins, and I, react to our own pains and frustrations. I can't do it though. That would give the wrong impression that life is meant to be fixed, and if we just find the right formula, all will be well. Many, maybe even most Christians live that way, trying to use Christianity as an antidote to the icky-ness of life.

The truth is there is no Christian magic formula. Life is messy. No one gets through it without some pain. We hurt the people we love the most, protesting loudly that the other person is to blame. I realized at least momentarily, this weekend how very far I have to go before I reach maturity, before I am able to love God and my family the way Jesus loved. I have been told that brokenness is a necessary step toward maturity.  I certainly can't boast, not even boast that I have achieved brokenness.

I can say that it is a good thing that Jesus loves me just because of who he is, and I can rest in that.