Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they (Matthew 6:26 ESV)?

Each spring, I hang healthy green ferns on our front porch. By June, however, they’re usually less lush, with dry, brown leaves dangling from the pots, due to a lack of water.

And the lack of water?

It’s because house finches nest in the ferns. The birds’ presence stirs anxiety, and I fear I might disturb the eggs by watering the plants.

So, this year, I waited a bit longer to put them out. Perhaps the finches will catch my drift, then find another place to nest…

To no avail.

Within a week of hanging the ferns, the first of four nests was constructed–likely under the veil of darkness since I never witnessed the birds’ efforts.

One afternoon, a strong wind came rushing through our valley. I watched with worry from our living room, observing the ferns tossing to and fro, especially the one on the most eastern portion of the porch.

Scared it might fall from its hook, I took the fern down. There, nestled inside, was the anticipated nest, though no eggs had yet been laid.

I set the fern by the rocking chair, then went inside and forgot about it. The next morning, however…

I remembered.

Walking back out, there it was. One lone egg, strategically laid… but not in the nest still sitting on the front porch floor.

No.

Rather, the desperate house finch, discovering her nest not hanging where it had been, deposited the egg on the porch railing.

I sucked in my breath. Then, with a sort of apology, I picked up the egg with the cuff of my sweatshirt, afraid my scent might deter the momma from coming back. I then placed it carefully inside the nest before hanging the fern once more.

Would the momma return?

For the next several weeks, I’d witnessed activity–the male and female parents coming and going from the nest, business as usual. Then, one morning, I heard the familiar chirp of a baby bird(s). A week later, more coming and going and so on until…

Sunday morning, I went out with my coffee and Bible to have my quiet time, and the dogs followed. A flurry of chirping ensued, the house finch parents clearly in the process of encouraging their baby (babies?) to fledge.

The colorful male sat on the blade of the ceiling fan while the momma perched in a nearby hemlock. Rustling came from the fern’s fronds, many leaves dry and brittle by this time. Little bits of debris floated to the porch floor.

Not wanting to disrupt what seemed a sacred moment, nor wanting our dogs to interrupt in any way, we returned to the house where I watched from the window. Sure enough, the babies (two? three?) were fledging.

And me? I celebrated!

Yes, I sometimes grow weary of having to worry about watering my plants. Indeed, I occasionally feel frustrated when the ferns become dry and less attractive. But, truth is… I love experiencing new life–its tenacity, its perseverance–birthed in such beautiful ways.

Perhaps it’s only a house finch, but to me…

It’s a miracle!

I’m reminded–God cares for the birds, and how much more does He care for us, those created in His magnificent image. And once again, I’m reminded.

He doesn’t just care for the seeming important things of life. Rather…

He’s the God of simple things too.

Kind Creator, thank You for caring for the big and small of life. The complex and the simple. The extraordinary and the commonplace. The little house finch is a miracle and so am I. Help me see the world through the lens of Your creativity and love, and may I stand in awe! Amen!

*(The photo of the lone egg on the ledge is not the actual house finch egg but a damaged barn swallow egg that was on the ground. It depicts how the finch egg looked when I found it on the front porch railing.)*

An error on my part, this post was supposed to go out last week. Now another family of house finches has fledged from my front porch fern. (Now, how’s that for alliteration?)