Monday, February 8, 2010

A sparrow story

A sparrow story
By Heidi Wallenborn-Cramer
At first I thought there was a mouse under the covered barbecue on the verandah.

I'd gone out to move the little tray of birdseed I keep near the door so I can enjoy watching rosellas and finches singing and dancing, with me as their private audience.

A pattering sound caught my attention. I spied a soft grey body, little beady eyes, then a flutter and flopping barely visible under the edge of the green canvas cover. I moved closer; a flurry of tiny wings stilled me.

Hesitant, I tiptoed forward then gently lifted the cover and spied a little bird. It twisted and turned, frantic to take flight; its leg was caught in a crevice of a double wheel.

I called to my husband, Steve. He gently held the sparrow. He felt her little heart beat a tattoo under his palm. Her foot was caught, held fast in the wheel's grip.

Several years ago I battled depression. A "house sparrow," I stood one morning in the bathroom of our second story home in a forest in Washington. Gazing out the window, I contemplated the death of my nearly 20-year marriage. It was late autumn and most frost-bitten leaves had pirouetted to their end, carpeting the forest floor. But one lone, yellow leaf caught my eye. It hung on a bare branch, stubbornly refusing to fall. It spun in the breeze, hanging on by a tendon. Despite the grey drizzle and cold winds, it stayed suspended between its summer haven and a loamy grave.

Sometime later, I looked for that stubborn, yellow leaf--it was still there. In fact it stayed for quite awhile until a severe, wintry gale knocked it loose. I was disappointed when it fell. I'd taken a few baby steps to change my future and had so much hope from such a little thing; I was on my way up, instead of falling down and rotting.

As Steve carefully handled the frightened little bird with one hand, he pried open the wheel with a small tool in the other. The sparrow's mangled claw dangled, useless. She peered at us through the top part of his fist and we discussed what to do. With tears in our eyes, we decided that neither one of us wanted to "put her out of her misery." I remembered some time ago seeing a bird hop around on one leg, and told him so. So he amputated the claw cleanly. He sent the tiny bird soaring over the verandah rail; as she took flight, I prayed.

Perhaps I'm still a bit like that house sparrow; maimed by life and a little crippled.

But I can still fly.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Hope gained

This summer morning, as I look out onto my view from my "treehouse office" at parrots flying low and a moon sailing over pine trees to its rest on the western horizon, I am reminded of Proverbs 13:12, "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life."

Perhaps my lighter heart this morning is in response to a number of good events over the last few days. Maybe I'm setting myself up for yet another emotional disaster that hope deferred brings.

But this morning, I feel good. Really good.

Getting married and moving to Australia in January 2007 was a bigger life change than I realized.

There were a lot of highly charged emotional things going on at the same time back in the States, and adding to the mix, the marriage isn't as easy-peasy as I thought it would be.

There were also roadblocks and other outside forces to deal with here that I had no idea were lurking around the corner to ambush me...a steady drone for years.

I finally talked to a professional about some of these things. It felt good to be validated and listened to and understood, and to know there is help available for me without prescriptions, and most of all there is hope.

I'm done with the guilt of feeling like Jesus should be enough, why isn't He? He is...and sometimes He uses other people as His hands throwing me a life jacket.

The biggest source of my joy this week were three week-long visitors.

My step-niece Josie and her 1-year-old daughter, Sienna, along with a friend's daughter from the US, Stephanie, are here.

They are young, fresh, and interesting in conversation (when we aren't chasing Sienna) and easy, enjoyable companions. For being perfect strangers, the two young women are getting along like a house on fire, and adventures are planned for the week.

When I started writing this morning, I felt peace. But now, the household is up, getting coffee, tea, and brekky, Sienna is banging plastic on the floor and squealing, and I realize that to this peace is added a quiet joy.

Maybe this longing fulfilled of a peaceful, hopeful life will become a strong and mighty tree in me.