When your Feathers are Ruffled
If there’s one constant in my life, it’s the daily presence of my birdy friends each morning as I stand at the window with my coffee and watch them on my deck.
They teach me so much.
My husband and I have had our eyes on one dark-eyed junco that’s among the busy, hopping crowd that visits our feeders each day.
There’s a tuft of black feathers at the top/back of his head that is sticking out, all cowlicky-like; it’s been there all week. I thought by now it’d be flattened out, giving him his appropriate junco look. But no–still ruffled feathers.
Poor guy. I wonder if he knows how funny he looks. I wonder if the bunchy-ness slows down his flights to and from our bushes. (you know, messing up the windflow over his aerodynamic body. Maybe?)
The feathers are still smooshed together like a small fin at the top of his head.
No wonder.
I told my husband, “Well of course. There’s no bird around that can groom him, pat his little birdy head and make it all better. He can’t reach his head himself, either.”
“What’s a bird to do?”
“What are WE to do,” I thought.
When we can’t see how funny we look? When our feathers are ruffled–upset about something or other, offended, angry? When there’s a hindrance that slows us down in our daily forays into the world?
Immediately I thought of the body of Christ. There’s a reason God refers to the church, his people, as a living, breathing body. Some people are the hands, for reaching up to pat us on the head when we need it. Some people are the arms, to point to the way of help so we can grow. Some people are the fingers, to gently smooth our ruffled feathers. They might reach out with a kind touch or even a cautionary forefinger at the lips, with a ‘shhhhh!’ when we’re in danger with our words.
Thank God for the body of Christ. Thank God for His Creation. It all speaks of His glory!
All we have to do is look and have a heart and eyes to see.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
