The Wren Still Sings-by Pamela R. Blaine

It was one of those rainy and dreary spring days. Although it-wasn’t extremely cold, it seemed that the wind caused a chill to-come over me. It was the kind of weather that after a few days-of it, my mood began to match the gloomy climate.I had finished my chores and was hurrying as fast as I could toget back into the warm house and out of the continuous drizzle when I heard something. I ran on inside the back door to get outof the rain but I turned and peeked back out the screen door. Iwanted to see if I could discover the origin of the lovely soundthat I was hearing. As I listened, I heard the sound again. I looked over toward the lilac bush and there sat a little wren that had made her nest in the tomato juice can that Mom had hung inthe bushes years ago. The wind was causing her house to sway and-the rain was coming down harder than ever.Yet, she seemed to look upward as she held on tightly with hertiny bird feet to a small branch and continued her sweet musical-solo. Although her world was shaken, the wren still sang.Perhaps we could take a lesson from the birds and learn to makeour nests, feed our young, and sing to God. The birds don’t askfor better nests or even better material for nests. They don’t complain about their lot in life, but they take what God has given them and then they do their best to create something beautiful with it.I have always enjoyed watching birds. I delight in the brilliant red of the cardinal, the beauty of the bluebird, and the unique touch of red on the red winged blackbird.The birds each have a special song of their own to sing. Somehave a very brief series of chirps while others have a whole chorusto perform. The Whippoorwill seems to sing her name while the quail simply calls his “bob white”.I have a tiny hummingbird’s nest that is a work of art. It isso small and beautifully made that I wonder at the perfection ofthis wee bird’s creation. It is completely round and about thesize of silver dollar. The outside is foundational with the rougher pieces of sticks and materials at the bottom of the nest.Gradually, the materials become softer until the finishing touch on the very top of the inside of the nest is covered with a softlayer of hair and fur.The birds around us are all different yet they don’t seem unhappy with their plumages nor do they try to look like other birds. The sparrow doesn’t rush right out to get his feathers dyed red to look like the cardinal nor does the robin try to peckaway on a tree like the woodpecker.The birds seem to be very content as they sing, fly, and work at their job of being a bird. It doesn’t seem to me that birds have much trouble with being happy. It must be because they trust their heavenly Father. They don’t worry about life. they just-live it. The birds neither sow nor reap yet God feeds and takescare of them and we are told that we are of so much greater valuethan the birds.The wind, rain, and the storms of life happen to people as well as to birds, but let’s try to look up when our world is shaken too, and remember that the wren still sings!

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