Watchful Eyes

"Even when we don't desire it—God is ripening." Rilke

The baby wrens have hatched. If you look carefully you can see the eye of one of the chicks down at the bottom of the photograph. The nest is a domed pile of leaves with a tunnel entrance off to the side—a wren signature—so getting up close is a challenge. What's interesting to me is how quiet they are. I thought they would be chirping away when the parents arrive with food, but perhaps they are still too young. What does happen after each delivery, is the parent bird perches on the plant stand and loudly and exuberantly sings a few bars of the wren repertoire before taking off in search of more tasty morsels. I wonder why?
I've kept a close eye on that little wren nest-worrying over it in rough weather, carefully watering the begonia it is built in to keep from soaking the nest, barricading the plant stand with deck chairs to discourage marauders. I doubt the wrens noticed, much less understood my part of their parenting endeavor, but I like to think my watchfulness helped ensure the little brood's success.
Most days we are like the wrens, feeling completely capable at whatever we have to do, but there are times when we can feel very alone in our lives—even if we are married or in a relationship or surrounded by family and friends. Sometimes we may wonder about the purpose for all our hard work or struggles or constant striving. We may long to feel that beyond the scope of our lives, a presence watches. These are the moments when we are most vulnerable to the divine. In seeking more than our own power can provide, we awaken our awareness there is a greater power looking and noticing, quietly going about the borders of our lives, moving deck chairs, watering the begonias and discouraging marauders. Our human nature does love the dramatic rescue, but more often the most essential support we ever receive is far from the script of Mission Impossible. We simply fail to recognize or take it for granted because it is so ordinary. All the while we are scanning the heavens for the airlift helicopter, thousands of everyday gifts, whether we know it or not, are working together to create the framework on which we can build the miracle of our lives. Maybe that is why the wren sings.