the wrens

We had new neighbors move in yesterday morning.

Wrens.

My parents gifted me with a simple, wooden, wren bird house for Mother's Day. I sort of doubted any bird would ever move in. It was just so....simple. No perch. And the directions said to place in a tree, 6 feet off of the ground, pointing southeast. And that is it. Hang it and watch the birds come.

My father assured me, "wait until you see the wren." He has the same house hanging in his own yard, "and they sing the most beautiful song." he promised. "And it is only the wren that moves in. No other bird."

My husband hung the house, and I looked at this plain wooden structure, wondering if there would ever be a wren in sight. It looked sort of impossible.

But the wrens showed up.

Yesterday morning, while prepping dinner, what looked like a small twig was spotted sticking out of the hole in the bird house. And so I stayed still. And I watched.

From 11am until 5pm, the wrens flew from the house, to the woods, carrying twigs in their mouths, and placing them in their new home. They are decorating, I said to myself. Sometimes, the twig was too big, and they would struggle to fit it inside, and the urge to run out and help them was almost too much. I am a mother. It is hard to watch such little ones struggle. The temptation to sweep in and do it for them was rising inside of me. But I stayed in my kitchen. And the wrens figured it out.

I considered bringing them a casserole to welcome them to the neighborhood.

My father jokingly said that he spotted the Raymour and Flanigan truck coming up my driveway.

My dad. He is funny.

And we were all so amazed that these beautiful, small creatures appeared at all; that they knew what to do and they did it so well.

And again, my father, looking out of my kitchen window, said, "And just wait until you hear the beautiful song they sing."

The birds, they wake at 5am.

I know this because I am usually already awake.

And it is a pretty marvelous thing, to be sitting alone in the dark in prayer, often quite sleepy, and to hear creation waking from slumber, singing songs of praise. And I wonder why we don't do that? Why we often wake up dreading the day, or fearing our future, or wishing we could sleep just a little bit longer. Why do we not wake up singing songs of praise?

I read in my Magnificat this morning, "All creation sings praise to God by being fully what the Creator intended."And I underlined that sentence and just sat with that for a little; let it marinate my heart to the tune of the birds song.

The wrens came and made their home because they live fully what the Creator intended.

They do not try to be anything other than what they are; wrens.

And this is what makes them so spectacular to watch.

This is what has me at my kitchen window in awe.

If only we could learn from their simplicity.

If only we could embrace what God fully intends for us, and to live it out for all to see.

And if we did, could you even imagine how beautiful our song would be?