What A Little Birdy Told Me - The Family of Faith

“He will gently lead the mother sheep with their young…” (Isaiah 40:11, NLT)

“But those who trust in the LORD will find new strength.
They will soar high on wings like eagles.
They will run and not grow weary.
They will walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:31, NLT)

As a mama, I was prone to hover, like a hummingbird in Robin’s clothing. It started right after my oldest was born, when I would lie suspended, just above sleep, as if God needed my company during the night watches. Instead of the figure-eight travel pattern made by my feathered sisters, I measured my parental progress by the number of subjects we’d homeschooled that day, the ratio of proteins to vegetables on our plates, and the pages I hadn’t typed in a given day. In my mind, too much laptop time meant too little family time, so I opted to write in the wee hours. “Da-da” was their first word, but this mama would have the last one; my responsibility for carrying everybody didn’t stop with childbirth.

Not so, or at least not now. I’ve realized that I’m no hummingbird—or a spring chicken for that matter. These days, when I awaken, I’m groggy and discombobulated; I don’t hit the floor flying. My brain is already a whirr, but it’s filled with what I didn’t accomplish the day before—which is confirmed by the to-do lists my middle-aged self is forced to write down. I’d call myself a worrybird, but that sounds unbecoming for a Spirit-filled believer. Every day, I flutter less and less, not because I don’t want to, but because I’m unable to. Sometimes it feels like I’m forgetting more than I remember. At least that’s what my oldest child informs me when it comes to parenting my youngest.

Perhaps you’ve also reached a similar stage in life or in your faith, when you start thanking God for your weaknesses. Oh, so graciously and mercifully, He uses them to show us He didn’t design us to flit from one problem to the next, checking off our little people like they’re homework assignments. He gave us arms to lift in praise for His omnipresent care and hands to clasp in supplication. Our knees aren’t much for jumping, but they can bend, however creakily, in humility, prayerfully submitting to our need for a Savior.

Instead of sipping, He’s inviting us to draw deeply from His well, past our own determination, to savor His goodness—family, friends, a home, work, opportunities to give and yes, accept help. Sure, there’s plenty to do, redo, and undo, but it’s okay to feel undone and completely overwhelmed. To be still and know that it’s God in His omnipotence, and not us mamas and papas, who knows best. We may accomplish less and lean more—not on our own understanding, but on His. More and more we should seek shelter under the wings of the Almighty instead of braving the elements, operating on our imperfect strength.

And in leaning, we’ll eventually soar as eagles. They rely on wind currents to carry them for miles, just as we should trust God to hold us aloft, taking us farther and higher than we could ever go on our own. Majestic, powerful birds don’t flit from flower to flower. They nest in the tops of trees and on rocky outcroppings—reminding us where we should hide, in the cleft, and where we should look for help, the hills, for “My help comes from the LORD.” (Psalm 121:2)

Reflection Question: Are you a hummingbird or an eagle?