In the past month, we’ve had several severe weather warnings. During each of those warnings, the birds’ behavior at our feeder changed dramatically.

Usually, lots of different species flock to our deck to eat. They take turns. They wait their turn for food. Once they’ve eaten, they fly off and will return later for another bite, leaving room for others in their absence. It’s all very civilized.

But, during the severe weather warnings, the birds’ behavior changed. The larger birds, like the Cardinals and the Red-bellied Woodpeckers, took control. They placed themselves atop the suet block and pecked at any other bird that came up. The little birds, like the Nuthatches, the Titmice, and the Chickadees waited below to pick up the seed that fell on the deck. They couldn’t get to the food source. And, the quantity of birds who wanted to eat increased during the warnings.

I’ve never thought about the term “pecking order” as having anything to do with birds. Until now, that is, when I saw the larger birds actually peck at the smaller birds to drive them away.

And I didn’t like what I saw. I felt bad for the smaller birds. I wanted to wave the larger birds off so the smaller birds had a chance. What I saw didn’t seem fair to me.

So I looked up the origins of the term “pecking order” online. According to DiscoveryMagazine.com, the term was coined by Thorleif Shjelderup-Ebbe, a young Norwegian, who studied chickens for years. He found that the chickens ranked themselves in ways that could be seen as predictable: “The rankings emerge from squabbles over food, and when a chicken finds itself defeated in a dispute, it will forever submit to the winner. Each member of the flock understands who ranks above and below it.” Those with power reminded the other chickens of their status by painfully pecking at their bodies. Possibly most interesting is that he found that the concept of hierarchical status was inherited, not learned.

The birds’ behavior I watched was brought about by stress of coming storms, the push for survival, and the urge to be prepared. I kept thinking about the old adage, “the survival of the fittest.” And the hierarchy of at least larger over smaller was obvious.

Stress affects us the same way. We tend to get self-focused and self-protective. Stress can cause us to lose patience with people, and to treat others meanly. Stress has divided us into groups based on how we react to issues that affect us. And hierarchy has become an acceptable status in work and society.

Sadly, I’m afraid that we often act like chickens . . . who are not known for the size or activity of their brains.

I pray that God constantly reminds us that we are under His provision and care, that He is our safe place in times of stress, and that His strength is available to all of us!

Before God, there is no hierarchy of position. In Christ, there is no pecking order. Maybe that’s the reminder we all need as we continue to deal with stresses we’ve never encountered before.

One of our quests while birding in Florida was to see the Florida Scrub Jay. It’s not the rarest bird or the most beautiful bird in Florida. It is, however, only found in Florida. It doesn’t migrate by season or to mate. It spends its life living in a world of desolation in the scrub brush of Florida.

Florida scrub has to be seen and experienced to understand. It’s a sand pine scrub that is also unique to the Ocala National Forest in Florida and is actually endangered. Apparently, these scrub forests are all that is left of a chain of islands. The oceans receded more than 25 million years ago, leaving sand islands on which the scrub forests can be found.

The scrub forests grow to heights of about six feet and are dependent upon periodic fires to keep other trees mixed in the brush to stay at that height. If trees overgrow the area, animals and birds within the scrub and the scrub itself will not survive. The plants that thrive there have evolved with thorns to protect them from being eaten and are capable of withstanding long-term droughts.

At least 173 species of birds have learned to thrive in the low scrub forest. They are not exotic birds. In fact, many of them are seen regularly at our feeders, such as mockingbirds, towhees, and catbirds. However, in the scrub forest, they stay on the ground or on the low branches, deep within the impenetrable scrub where they are safe from most predators. Birds tend to fly out of the scrub to catch a flying insect and then disappear immediately back into it. It makes for hard, difficult birding.

While the Florida Scrub Jay lives in the scrub, it can also be seen near the top of trees around the scrub. And unlike the other birds, the Scrub Jay is not skittish around people. The Jay’s actions are completely opposite of what is seen by the other birds.

I couldn’t help looking at the birds jumping in and out of this desolate forest and think about the world today. Jesus said that we are to be in the world but not of the world (John 15:19). It seems to me that even we Christians keep getting pulled down into the world of desolation, disappointment, and discouragement. We can jump out of it for awhile, but tend to get pulled right back in.

Maybe we’re meant to be more like the Florida Scrub Jay. We’re meant to be strong enough to pull away from the desolation–to stay above the fray. Has there ever been a time when believers should be reminding the world that even in the midst of a global pandemic, we have something in our lives that allows us to move above it.

We have the promise of God’s love and mercy, and the hope of our eternal future with Him.

Maybe it’s time for us as believers to be the voice above the discouragement. As Isaiah 9:2 says, “The people who walk in darkness will see a great light; those who live in a dark land, the light will shine on them” (NASB).

Margie’s latest devotional book, 8 Days in Jerusalem, is available for Lent through amazon.com and christainbooks.com.

On our way to Florida to go birding, we stopped for barbecue in Tifton. Sitting outside at a cold, stone table, I glanced over the nearby lake and saw a plethora of birds: a Great Egret wading on the shore, a pair of American Bald Eagles soaring overhead, and a flock of Canadian geese swimming along the surface. I ran back to the car for my binoculars. Over the next few minutes, I also saw a Great Blue Heron on the shore, a flock of Double-Crested Cormorants roosting in a tree and swimming across the lake, and a Pied-bill Grebe ducking under water in search of something to eat.

That may not sound like a lot, but we had only seen the eagle and the geese since the year began. That meant we had four birds to add to our list, and two of those – the Double-crested Cormorant and the Pied-bill Grebe – were brand new two us. They were “lifers” for us, and that’s always exciting!

However, the irony couldn’t escape me. We were headed to go birding for three full days. Yet, we just happened to see these lifers because I just happened to glance over while we just happened to stop at a barbecue place along the way.

It just happened.

Those birds showed up in the meantime. The sighting wasn’t planned; it wasn’t expected. It wasn’t even on the radar. It happened in the meantime.

The words, “in the meantime,” are probably a good motto of life. Life contains so many moments that just happen, usually while we’re going about doing other things.

I remember when we were younger and newly married and struggling to get out of school and begin careers. There were so many things we wanted to do, but we didn’t have the time or the money or the experience.

I hear people talk a lot about what they will do one day – when they get a better job, when they finish school, when they find a significant other. It feels like they are waiting for something to happen.

But, in the meantime, there’s life and it’s spontaneous.

Life is filled blessings and joys and surprises.

Life brings experiences and growth and maturity.

Life includes struggles, sorrows and hurt feelings.

Don’t miss what happens in the meantime. It’s in the meantime that God’s voice can be heard, His creation can be appreciated, and His glory can be worshipped.

In the meantime . . .

The other birds mentioned are:

1 of 4

Margie’s latest devotional book, 8 Days in Jerusalem, is available for Lent through amazon.com and christainbooks.com.

We’ve just returned from several days of birding on the east coast of Florida. In our first year of birding, which was actually only nine months long, we counted 107 species of birds. While on our trip, we saw 80 species, 35 of which were brand new to us. That’s an amazing count in just a few days. But what was more amazing to me personally were all the quiet moments watching the birds as God spoke to me. We spent hours watching birds on salt marshes, coastal beaches, and inlets. So, I’m dedicating the month of February to coastal birds and how God used them to speak to me.

One of my new favorite birds is the sanderling. Sanderlings are probably the smallest bird on the shore, and they run around on tiny legs, barely leaving the ground. They’ll be surrounded by larger gulls and terns, and, all of a sudden, the entire group will run in a different direction. It’s like one of the sanderlings says, “Hey, y’all, follow me!” All of the little birds will take off running in one direction and then stopping at some point as if it was meant to be. Occasionally, one of the sanderlings will seem to be left behind, but as soon as the bird realizes the group has moved on, he (or she), too, takes off, running to catch up.

These little birds are fun to watch as they move around the beach during the day. They never seem to put their legs in the water if they can help it. They seldom take flight. But they move together in what seems like a choreographed dance.

When we left Georgia to head south, one of the ladies in our women’s ministry group had a death in her family. The group started texting in a rush, asking what we could do and what they needed. Within minutes, a food chain had been started and food was delivered to the family within hours. As I watched the sanderlings, I thought about our group’s response, and how groups within the church ordinarily respond to emergency needs.

It’s like we flock together, running to the need and doing whatever we can to help. And then, after the immediate need has been met, we’ll be running off to meet another need.

Sometimes, that need is met through prayer support. My phone will almost blow up as the group begins to pray specifically to meet a need.

Sometimes, that need is met through food or by running an errand or by lending something needed to someone.

I’ve always thought that the support of believers may be one of the greatest blessings we receive within the church. I feel sorry for families who are going through an emergency who face it alone, without the support of caring church members.

My dad had heart surgery at Emory years ago. We shared the waiting room with another family. During the morning, as the waiting drug on and on, we were visited by ministers and friends from the church. The other family had no one. Every time we would gather with those who visited in prayer, we invited the other family to join us. I’ll never forget how grateful they were.

Standing on the beach, I realized anew how blessed I am. I’m a sanderling in a flock of sanderlings. I know I’ll never be left behind, and that they’ll always be there when I need them. Isn’t that a beautiful picture of what the church is?

If you can’t get to the beach any time soon to watch the sanderlings in action, enjoy this video:

Margie’s latest devotional book, 8 Days in Jerusalem, is available for Lent through amazon.com and christainbooks.com.

Every time I drive down 400, I pass under a section of wires that are filled with birds. It’s happened so often that I wondered why birds gather that way. I started reading articles from avian researchers to find the answers.

Bill Saidel, a Rutgers University-Camden biology professor, led a group of researchers to find out why birds do this. They discovered that birds gather for social reasons and are attracted to birds of the same species. They also found that birds seek safety from predators there and often find their mates there as well. Plus, sitting on the wire allows them a good view of fields when looking for food. They also found that that the birds were “basically waiting for an event to happen and the event might be something as simple as sunset.”

Mark LaBarr, a wildlife biologist and conservation program manager with Audubon Vermont, adds addition information about the habit. He explains that some species of birds gather on wires for a “pre-migratory get-together.” That means the wires become the staging area where birds gather before they migrate south for the winter.

The more reading I’ve done, the more the habits of the birds on a wire have reminded me of the habits of the church. We gather to with people with the same heritage as heirs on God’s kingdom. We gather for safety and protection in the face of evil. We gather for the united strength to stand against it. And, we gather as a staging area as we go out into the world as God’s people.

We, as the church, gather to be with people of like-minds––those having the mind of Christ––just as Paul described in Philippians. Paul wrote, “So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy, complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind.” (Phil. 2:1-2, ESV) We the church are a human example of “birds on a wire.”

Margie’s latest devotional book, 8 Days in Jerusalem, is available for Lent through amazon.com and christainbooks.com. 

A few weeks ago, Bob and I walked the Greenway in Clarkesville, binoculars in hand, hoping to see a few new birds. We actually saw three, which put our life list over 100 for 2020. That was exciting enough, but two of the birds had bright yellow spots. That was the biggest win for the day.

Birds with bright yellow, except for Goldfinches, have mostly eluded us. They seem to like to stay deep in the brush. When they fly out, they dart from one area of brush to another, disappearing quickly out of sight. For us to see two birds with yellow markings long enough to be able to identify them was amazing. We were actually giddy with excitement. It’s a birding thing.

I’ve thought about that experience ever since. Those birds brought us joy by bringing a color we don’t usually see. It’s made me ponder how people bring color into my life in ways that bring me joy.

I’ve thought about the people who bring humor into my life, sometimes at my own expense, but are always good for a laugh. They remind me not to take things to seriously.

I’ve thought about the people who bring support and encouragement into my life. They take time remind me why I do the things I do and that they see value in those things and in me.

I’ve thought about the people who bring the gift of service into my life. They constantly step up when they see a need to show they care for me.

I’ve thought about the people who bring true friendship into my life. They have shown me such love, even when I have disappointed them.

My life is full of color . . . color that stills excites me to the point of giddiness. I am so blessed.

For the first time, we are planning trips for 2021 to give us opportunities to see new birds (“lifers”) and to see again the birds we discovered during 2020. So far, we have four trips already planned, and each will give us a chance to explore a different type of birds.

Edisto Island, South Carolina

First, in mid-spring, we’ll be headed to Edisto Island, South Carolina. We’ve actually made this trip once before, but I wasn’t that excited about seeing birds. I blew it. Edisto Island is home to Botany Bay Plantation Heritage Preserve. Botany Bay is one of the few places to see a Painted Bunting, which is one of the most amazingly colored birds around. We’ve actually already seen it once there, but I’m not counting it yet because I wasn’t significantly awed at the first sighting.

Nearby is Magnolia Plantation and Audubon Swamp Garden, located near Charleston, South Carolina. We anticipate seeing heron, egrets, and other waterfowl. High on the list for us would be several “lifers”: Anhingas, Snowy Egrets and Little Blue Herons. We might also see a plethora of other “lifers” for us. For example, we could see Ruby-crowned Kinglets, Hermit Thrushes, Blue-headed Vireos, Norther Parulas, and Prothonotary Warblers. That’s a lot to hope for and a tremendous amount of study in preparation of recognizing what we see there.

Finally, we’ll have some time on the beach and will be able to see shore birds. We’ve seen many before–pelicans, gulls, terns–but this will be a chance to watch them over time.

Rocky Mountains, Colorado

In late spring, just after school gets out, we’re headed with family to Estes Park, Colorado, and the Rocky Mountain National Park. There are so many birds in the west that they need their own guidebook (I’ve already ordered two.). There’s lots of planning and reading to do before we go to be prepared for what we see there. We’ll have the younger grandchildren with us so I’m ordering junior birding guidebooks for them on western birds.

Rocky Mountain National Park has 270 different species of birds. A few that I hope to see are the White-tailed Ptarmigan, the Three-toed Woodpecker, the Western Tanager, the Dusky Grouse, and the Pine Grosbeak.

We’ll also spend time in Colorado Springs and Pike’s Peak, and will be looking for raptors. On the way to Colorado and back, we’ll be driving through Oklahoma and Kansas. I really want to see a Prairie Chicken!

West Point Lake, Georgia

We’re headed back to West Point Lake in August. As we did this past year, we’ll sit at the edge of the lake and watch the Osprey, the Great Blue Heron, the Green Heron, and the Great Egret. This trip is planned to go see birds that we fell in love with this year.

Blairsville, Georgia

In September, we’ll meet my aunt and uncle again in Blairsville. During September, the warblers and the finches are moving through Blairsville. This year, I hope we’ll have an easier time of telling the warblers apart.

Intentional Plans

Why am I sharing all this with you? It occurs to me that we get the best results–in anything we do–when we plan to succeed. I’d like to double the number of birds we see this year. That means we’d see about 200 birds, and over half of them would be new birds or “lifers” for us. That’s a huge goal, but I think what we’ve planned makes that possible.

Birding for me often seems like a microcosmic look at life. We are planning intentionally to be successful as birders. I’m wondering what else I should be planning intentionally to achieve this year. Is this the year that I take up painting? Write another book? Take ballroom dance lessons? None of those things will come about if I don’t plan it out and take action.

What about you? Is there something you want to start planning intentionally to achieve this year? Now’s the time to make it happen!

I began this series a few months after I began birding. I was truly a rookie birder. I’ve passed the nine-month point and we’ve moved into a new year. So I’ve been wondering, how long do I continue to use the rookie moniker as a birder?

Urban Dictionary defines a rookie as “a beginner, a starter, somebody doing and trying something for the first time.” That’s really an apt description for where I started. I knew nothing about birds. I knew nothing about different species. I was unable to even identify all but a few of the most common birds I saw. I didn’t even know how to find out the information I needed. I was a complete loss at using binoculars to track the birds. I was definitely a beginner.

During the past months, I’ve focused on collecting and studying information on birds. I’ve subscribed to a bird magazine and read it from cover to cover. I’ve downloaded Merlin, a birding app, on my phone to use in the field to identify what I see. I’ve bought three new bird books and dug out two others my hubby gave me years ago when I was laid up from surgery on my achilles tendon. He thought watching the birds would keep me entertained at the time. Apparently, I wasn’t ready back then.

During the past months, I purchased new binoculars and have practiced using them. I’ve learned to watch trees for movement before ever raising the binoculars to find the birds.

During the past months, I’ve read articles on birding etiquette that protects the birds and other birders. I’ve read about what colors not to wear when birding so I don’t frighten the birds away. And, I’ve purchased two hats to use when birding, because looking up into the sunshine while trying to see a bird is murder.

During the past months, I’ve worked on my photography skills in order to be able to document what I see. I’ve upgraded my camera lens so I can photograph birds from a distance.

During the past months, we’ve set aside time to bird. We’ve made the time we spend birding a priority.

It seems like I’ve done everything I could possibly have done during these past months to become a successful birder.

So, can I continue to hang onto the designation of rookie? I’ve come a long, long way from where I started at the end of March. But, I’ve still got a long, long way to go. I’ve learned a lot, but there is still so much to know. I still feel like a beginner, and I’m not sure I’m ready to claim to be anything more. I think I’ll hang onto being a rookie for a while longer.

When I started birding, I would write down the birds I could identify. I remember sitting on a friend’s back deck, binoculars in hand, as I wrote down the birds I saw while we talked. I quickly realized I needed a better system for keeping track.

I started looking online and found lots of printed options for keeping track of birds sighted, but each one seemed to be labor-intensive. So, I asked Craig Taylor about the best way to keep track. He sent me an excel template he had created that had every bird found in North America on it. Not only is it easy to use, but the document tabulates the results for me. All I do is mark down if the bird is seen on our property, in our state, or outside our state. It’s incredible easy, practical and works for me.

As we approached the beginning of 2021, I realized I was going to have to start over with a brand-new list for tracking birds. That’s both exciting and overwhelming. We’ve worked at birding this year. We’ve seen a lot of birds. The idea of starting with a blank slate is kind of daunting.

On the other hand, the list I’ve used for 2020 will become my life list. I’ll be able to add new birds, birds I’ve never seen before, to that life list. Birders refer to these new birds as “lifers” because they go on the cumulative list. And they only count on that list once.

It’s definitely a moment to start over and continue on.

That’s life, really. Every year, every day, every moment we have the opportunity to start over and to continue on. Life is the culmination of our life experiences, but we constantly have the opportunity to start over, to reset, to do better, and to continue on.

I haven’t made a New Year’s Resolution in years. I never keep them, and usually don’t even start them. But I start over every day and I continue on every moment. That may be enough.

We’ve been thinking back on our first calendar year of birding and have begun planning our birding trips for next year. We’ve been at this now almost nine full months. We’ve seen 101 different identified species of birds. It’s been an interesting, exciting, frustrating, disappointing, and amazing journey.

So, to celebrate our first year and our first 100 species, Bob and I put together our top ten list of the birds we saw that were significant to us in our journey. These are not numbered in any particular order, except for the way we thought of them. Our hope is that seeing the amazing variety and colors and design of these birds will give you a glimpse of what draws us to birding.

Scarlet Tanager: I saw this bird from the back deck and the bright red color was visible from a long distance away. This bird has become one of my favorites–maybe because of the UGA black and red coloring?

American Bald Eagle: An American Bald Eagle lives up the mountain from us. We haven’t seen it often, but when we do, we both stop whatever we’re doing to watch it. The bald eagle really is majestic in flight.

Blue Grosbeak: Almost as exciting to see as the bright red Scarlet Tanager was the Blue Grosbeak. We first saw the Red-breasted Grosbeak at the feeder and it was gorgeous. But it didn’t make this list. The Blue Grosbeak has such beautiful coloring that the Red-breasted Grosbeak pales in comparison.

American Redstart: We saw this bird for the first and only time near Blairsville. He was deep in shrub and tree branches. We went back for three days hoping to see him again. His coloring of black and dark orange-red is distinct and beautiful.

Indigo Bunting: On the same day we saw the first Blue Grosbeak, we saw the Indigo Bunting. Both were in trees around the Clarkesville Greenway. It was interesting to see how many people walked within a few yards of them and never saw them. The Indigo Bunting is another beautifully colored bird, lighter in blue than the Blue Grosbeak but every bit as beautiful.

Cedar Waxwing: We saw the only two Cedar Waxwings we’ve seen at the top of Bell Mountain, east of Hiawassee. I had no idea how beautiful they really are until we saw them up close. They are delicately colored and look perfectly put together.

Great Blue Heron: We saw this bird fly over early on in our birding, but it wasn’t until we were at West Point Lake near LaGrange that we were able to see them up close. They have beautiful tall, regal bodies. When they fly, they are distinctive because of how their legs stretch out behind them.

Green Heron: The Green Heron is not as large as the Great Blue Heron but its coloring is even more beautiful and just as impressive. We saw the Green Heron at West Point Lake as well.

Killdeer: The Killdeer has one of the more unusual markings of any birds we saw this year with black bands that circle its neck. We saw this bird the first time in a parking lot in Braselton. I was so excited that I was jumping up and down. We later saw a female Killdeer watching over her eggs that were on top of a cement covering over a grave. When we tried to get a little closer to her, she ran from her eggs and acted like she was lame to draw attention away from her eggs. She was amazing.

Pileated Woodpecker: The Pileated Woodpecker is one of the larger woodpeckers with striking markings of black, white and red. Bob put it on this list. I had only seen one from afar until last week, and Bob was right. It is a stunning bird to watch.

Honorable Mention: While in the parking lot at the top of Brasstown Bald, we saw a Cockatiel (that’s a type of parrot). The Cockatiel was actually on a leash, but we counted it on our yearly list because we’ll probably never see another one again that’s not in a pet shop or an owner’s cage.

Birds we thought about but didn’t include were the Rose-breasted Grosbeak, the Great Egret, the Hooded Warbler, the Red-headed Woodpecker, the Goldfinch and the Purple Finch. All of these are beautiful and all are unique. Maybe next year . . .

It’s been a good year of birding. We’ve seen a lot, learned a lot, and enjoyed it all. On January 1, we’ll start over counting the birds we see. I look forward to seeing what God will teach us in 2021 about His birds and about Him.

When I started birding this year, I experienced the unexpected. I began to look at the world around me differently. I hope that I’ve been able to see, even if only for a moment, what the world looks like through God’s eyes. As I’ve reflected on these nine months of birding, here’s what I’ve realized.

Through birding, I’ve discovered God’s creative genius in the way He designed our world.

Through birding, I’ve discovered God’s artistic capacity with colors and patterns and variety.

Through birding, I’ve learned the ability to sit in silence, listen to the birdsong, and just appreciate being in God’s world.

Through birding, I’ve become more patient, even though I’m a high type-A personality, as I wait for birds to show up on their time-schedule.

Through birding, I have spent more time in the presence of the Lord than ever before.

And, through the scripture, I’ve discovered God’s imminent love and compassion for what He creates . . . even the birds.

Becoming a birder may be the greatest gift I’ve received this year. I heard a new worship song by Brandon Heath recently. His words resonate with me:

“Give me your eyes for just one second,

give me your eyes so I can see,

Everything that I keep missing,

give me your love for humanity.

Give me your arms for the broken-hearted,

the ones that are far beyond my reach.

Give me Your heart for the ones forgotten.

Give me Your eyes so I can see.”

So, as we move toward celebrating the birth of God’s Son this week, I pray for God to truly let me see through His world His eyes. I pray that God will gift me with the ability to love as He loves. I pray that I never forget that God’s gift of His Son at Christmas was because of His love for me.

That’s what I want for Christmas . . .

Birding requires both of those actions . . . identifying the birds we see and watching birds to see what new we can learn about them beyond their identities.

I checked with photographer Craig Taylor about birds he has struggled to identify. He gave me two examples of what he calls UFOs. The feature photo is of a warbler, but Craig’s still not sure which one. The other photo is of a sandpiper in Iowa. He’s not sure about what kind of sandpiper it is, but he keeps studying photos trying to identify it accurately.

That’s a pretty good picture of how believers should approach the Bible. It’s one thing to know how to use the Bible, and even to memorize some of it. It’s another thing to dig deep–to search God’s Word for His truth and His revelation. It’s easy to be satisfied with the first action without doing the work required of the second.

If birders were satisfied with being able to identify the birds but knew nothing about them, how unsatisfying birding would become.

During the Great Awakening in America, England’s great evangelist Charles Spurgeon came to the United States to preach a series of revivals. He traveled from town to town, accompanied by a young American seminary student (or so I remember the story). Every night, Spurgeon preached a new sermon on John 3:16. After many nights of hearing the same text expounded from the pulpit, the young student asked Spurgeon when he was going to move on to another passage of scripture for his text. Spurgeon responded, “When I have wrung out God’s truth completely from that text, I’ll move on.”

I read that story in a book titled Lamplight and Son in my doctoral studies. It resonated with me as a Christian, as a student of the Bible, and as a teacher of the Bible. Here’s why:

If the Bible was easily understood, scholars would have no need to spend their lives studying, translating, and interpreting Scripture.

If the Bible was easily understood, adults would have no need to study Scripture for long.

If the Bible was easily understood, we’d have no need for preachers to open our hearts to the powerful call of the Scripture.

If students of the Bible are satisfied with just knowing the basics of Scripture without digging in for the depth of God’s revelation, how rootless that knowledge would become and how little they would truly know about God.

Just a reminder to dig deep . . . whether about birds or scripture or anything else that interests you. The deeper we dig, we more we gain.

I recently read an article in Birds&Blooms about the stages a bird goes through in life. I ask my birding friend Craig Taylor to send me photos of the growth process of birds. He sent me four that he had taken at the owl box he had in his backyard. As always, he captured extraordinary moments in the lifetime of the birds.

We know that an owl’s journey begins in the egg. When the owl breaks the egg open, using a special tooth for that purpose, it has no feathers, cannot see and cannot take care of itself. It’s called a hatchling at that point. As it develops, the owl baby is a nestling, meaning it cannot leave the nest and has to be taken care of.

When the owl gets its downy feathers, it’s called a fledgling or juvenile. The fledgling can leave the nest and begins to learn how to survive, but it’s not able to fly yet. The parents will be somewhere close by, watching its baby carefully. As the feathers begin to change, the owl can be called a subadult, meaning it’s in-between the fledgling/juvenile and adulthood. At this stage, the owl can also be referred to as immature. The final stage is the mature or adult owl.

Owls go through this process much faster than we do as adults and their life-expectancy depends on them successfully learning how to take care of themselves at each step.

This process has grabbed my attention because I just celebrated another birthday. Age has seldom mattered to me. Except for this year. This birthday–my 68th–has caused me to think about the stages I’ve been through, the life experiences I’ve had, and the success and the failures I’ve been through.

Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs is based on the idea that as we develop as humans, we have basic needs that must be met to survive and then thrive. Just like the nestlings and the fledglings, our basic needs of water and food and shelter and safety are necessary for us to live. After these basic needs, we humans need to feel loved and to feel like we belong to others. And we also need to feel like we’ve accomplished something–that what we do in and with our lives matter.

Maslow’s final level is that of self-actualization, which is defined as “achieving one’s full potential, including creative activities.” In plain terms, it’s the desire to know that we’ve done all we can do–that our lives have mattered.

I’ve been evaluating my life on this need of self-actualization. I’ve had many questions that have been swirling through my head in this process: Have I done all that I can do in my life and my faith? Have I faithfully responded to the doors that God has opened for me? Am I as passionate now about being used by God as I was when I was younger? Will this great big number that reflects the years I’ve lived also reflect the consistence with which I live my life for Him? What will God have for me to do next?

Birthdays aren’t a bad thing. They give us the opportunity to stop and reflect and consider how God can still use us. It’s all part of the developmental process of who we are in God, and that process will not end until our lives are over. That gives me something to celebrate about.

God continues to use Margie Williamson through her writing. Her new book A Christmas Story Promise Devotional: From Cradle to Crown is available through Amazon.com and ChristianBooks.com.

Last Sunday, we woke up to a beautiful sunrise. The sun glimmered off the tree limbs that had lost their leaves. The evergreens’ color vibrantly stuck out among the bare trees, bringing life to the scene. The whole picture was gorgeous and I thanked God that we get to live in such a place of beauty. I’m grateful.

On the way to church, a Belted Kingfisher flew directly in front of our car. I’ve only seen one on one other occasion, and never in Clarkesville, so that was a wonderful surprise.

Then, we saw a Pileated Woodpecker, a stunningly beautiful bird that I haven’t seen often. I thanked God that those birds showed up in such a way so we couldn’t miss seeing them. They were both extraordinary in that moment. I was grateful to be there at those specific and special moments in time.

The year 2020 has been a bust for so many reasons. Our parents are not able to do the things they’ve enjoyed. Their lives have become limited and often disappointing. Our kids haven’t been to our house since last Christmas. We feel the loss of getting with our family on special occasions. But we’re all healthy. We have the ability to be together virtually. I’m grateful that we’re safe and that the bonds of our family are made stronger through absence.

I don’t want what I’ve lost this year to prevent me seeing what I have. So, here’s my list of what I’m most grateful this year.

I’m grateful for our families, and for how I’ve seen God strengthen those relationships during this time.

I’m grateful that we were able to be present in June when our six-year-old granddaughter was baptized in a swimming pool after she made her profession of faith. She wasn’t willing to wait for COVID to be over before she did that.

I’m grateful to be part of a church family who loves each other and our community well. I’m grateful that God has led us to this place at this time and made our lives better for it.

I’m grateful for friends, both old and new, who have made life in the pandemic tolerable. Life is better with friends–either in person or virtually or through texts or social media.

I’m grateful that God opened the door this year for me to join the Now Habersham staff and for the challenges He places before me as a writer. And I’m so grateful for the skills of Craig Taylor, our friend who shares his knowledge, expertise, and photos with Bob and me as new birders and with this column. I couldn’t do what I do in Confessions of a Rookie Birder if Craig didn’t have a personal library of photos he’s taken over the years that he’s willing to share.

Above all, I’m grateful because I know that God is sovereign–He is greater than coronavirus and greater than any struggles the virus has created. He is greater than everything. And like the evergreens that haven’t changed even as all the trees around them do, God is constant and unchanging. His presence is with us as surely as the evergreens keep their color year-round. What an amazing gift to us that is.

I’m grateful for so much. What are you grateful for this year?

Our bird feeder was down for a couple of weeks and then it took several days for the birds to find it again. When they finally showed up, it felt like “old friends” had returned.

It’s interesting to me that I had that reaction. I’ve griped about these same birds as being common and boring. I’ve shared my frustrations that they weren’t more exciting–that they were just backyard birds that can be seen anywhere. But after an absence, I was so glad to see them. My “old friends” had returned.

I especially enjoyed watching the White-breasted Nuthatches for awhile, and I’ve focused on them in the photos I’ve included. They have such a cute personality that they’ve been described as “comic.”

Thinking about that got me started thinking about old friends in my life. I’ve been so blessed by the women who shared themselves with me over the years.

I thought about my college roommate Marty and college friends Brenda and Beverly. The four of us got together almost two years ago. We knew at the time that we probably wouldn’t see Beverly again because she had so many health issues. She passed away within a couple of months. But getting back together was like going back in time. We experienced friendship that had not changed in all the subsequent years. They’re dear “old friends.”

I thought about my friend Karen. We were golfing buddies, we both were curriculum writers, and we both taught conferences all over the southeast, often together. I saw Karen about two years ago and it was like nothing had changed. We laughed. We cried. We shared what had gone on in the twenty years since we’d seen each other. She’s still my dear “old friend.”

I thought about my friends Miki, Kay, and Lou Ann who have been prayer partners and travel partners for years now. They’ve brought joy and fun and support and love into my life in ways I hadn’t experienced before. Stupid COVID keeps us from getting together right now, but it doesn’t change the support we give to each other. They are dear “old friends.”

I thought about my friends Ann and June who were in one of my Bible studies at our last church. They’ve been such encouragers for me. When we left the church after Bob retired, I felt the loss deeply of them and others who had loved me so well and encouraged me so completely. They are special “old friends” who I hear from occasionally or I contact occasionally because I miss them in my life. I still thrive on their encouragement.

Old friends are a gift from God. I’m so grateful these “old bird friends” showed up to remind me of just how blessed I am.

The shadow of something large flying over the deck grabbed my attention. The bird was huge, and when it circled around and flew back within 20 feet of me, I could clearly see his markings––an American Bald Eagle. I’ve seen a Bald Eagle fly over our house once before but he was so far away that I could barely tell it was an eagle. But this one was so close that it was something to celebrate.

That was on Wednesday, the day before Zeta rolled through Clarkesville and our area of the mountains. By 6 am on Thursday, I was huddled downstairs with a cup of coffee that I had gotten made just before the power went out. I huddled next to a lit candle, worrying about losing touch with the outside world since my cell phone had not charged overnight. As I listened to the howling winds outside, a song kept running through my mind. The lyrics come from Isaiah 40:31: They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not grow weary; they shall walk, and not faint. I learned the song from the King James Version over forty years ago and it ended with the words, Teach me Lord, to wait.

I did a lot of waiting that morning and actually through the next days. The power didn’t come on until late Saturday. I happened to be home alone during that time. And that song continued to run through my head . . . teach me Lord to wait.

The sighting of the eagle possibly was a divine appointment. Being reminded of that verse of scripture kept me calm during the storm. Several times, I actually left my place of safety and went out on the front porch to watch the storm. It was amazing to see the force of the winds.

Being reminded that my hope was in Christ alone helped me wait out the storm and wait for the power. I spent some of the time in prayer and contemplation. I read a lot with a flashlight and I survived without my computer or my phone for days.

Being reminded of the strength of the eagle as he flew over helped me remember that I am stronger than I usually give myself credit for.

There is strength found in waiting. . . Lord, teach me to wait.

One of my favorite songs from one of my favorite movies is “Feed the Birds” in Mary Poppins. It’s a beautiful, but sad, song, and I always wondered why the birds needed so much help.

I’ve seen several articles recently about the importance for putting out bird feeders for the winter. One article provides five reasons that winter feeders are so important:

1. Natural sources for seed aren’t available in the winter.
2. The extra food will help local birds get ready for mating in the spring.
3. Birds need extra calories in the winter.
4. Birds’ natural predators are extra hungry, too.
5. Water sources, such as fountains and streams, are frozen.

We’ve put out a new feeder to get ready for the winter, and frankly, the birds have not yet been particularly interested. Maybe later . . .

Thinking about how the birds need feeding help in the winter made me think about what I need in winter. Winter in the mountains of Georgia can get cold, and gray, and dreary at times. The days get short, time in the sun is short at best, and my energy seems to deplete. As much as I love a beautiful winter day with a bright blue sky and a fire in the fireplace to ward off the cold, the cold, gray days  are not nearly as uplifting.

The same could be said about cold, gray days spiritually. We all have them––days that leave us feeling discontented or unsettled. Those are the days that we need the extra feeding as well––the extra spiritual calories that come from the Word of God. This winter I’m going to be more intentional fighting the cold, gray days with God’s Word. Join me?

Recently while camping, we spent an uncomfortable night while a storm crashed around us. It was late before we could finally get to sleep. In the morning, the first thing I did was open the camper door to see if any tree limbs had landed on the camper or our cars. When I saw no damage, I grabbed my binoculars and headed out to see if the birds had survived.

It was one of those weird mornings where the sun wasn’t really shining and the light seemed a little eerie. But once I walked out from under the trees, there were birds everywhere in the sky. They flew from one limb to another and back again. They crossed the meadow in flocks, moving as one. They circled above the lake, gliding on the wind currents. It felt like they were celebrating getting through the night as much as I was.

As I watched the flying acrobatic show, the choral hymn Joy in the Morning by Natalie Sleeth starting playing in my mind: “Joy . . . there is joy, there is joy in the morning.” As I began to sing aloud, I stopped looking through my binoculars and just watched with joy.

I don’t know if birds really feel joy. I don’t know if birds feel fear during a storm. I probably cast my own feelings upon them. But watching them show off their skill in flight brought me joy. And, watching them brought me into the presence of God.

The psalmist wrote, “Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning!” (Ps 30:5b) Those are words to hang on to during the storm.

Here’s some lagniapppe (a New Orleans word that means “a little something extra”) for you if you’ve never heard the choral rendition of Joy in the Morning.

Standing in a parking lot recently, I heard birds chirping in all directions. I finally narrowed down one small Crepe Myrtle from which the bird sound was loud. I approached the Crepe Myrtle and circled it closely. I never touched the tree, but I would pause to search among the leaves. Finally, after several minutes of searching carefully, I found the bird.

I kept watching among the leaves, probably getting a little too close, and the bird flew off. I must have gotten too close.

What’s interesting to me is that the bird was a Chipping Sparrow. Many Chipping Sparrows spend their lives in the trees and foliage of shopping center parking lots. They also frequent light poles and under building eaves. They are easily seen on the ground, searching for food. These birds have chosen some of the most public areas in which to dwell. They’re used to cars driving by and people passing by on foot. Many times, they’ll barely acknowledge the presence of any one else.

But I got too close and the bird flew away.

I taught on Jesus and the Samaritan woman in John 4:4-26 this morning. When Jesus confronted the woman at the core of who she was, she tried to deflect His attention away from herself.

Jesus wouldn’t be deflected. He said to the woman, “Just come to Me.” What a great reminder for those who are hiding in plain sight.

I’ve prayed for patience for years, but I’ve seen little evidence that my prayers have been answered. In fact, I have often joked that God threw in the towel where my patience is concerned. Honestly . . . I’m just joking.

In fact, most people, when they hear that I’ve prayed for patience, have cautioned me to be very careful. They seem to think that patience only comes through trials.

I don’t agree with that assumption. And, in fact, I’ve seen patience developing in my life through birding.

It takes patience to focus on a tree, waiting on a bird to move or just flutter so I can focus in on the bird for identification.

It takes patience to sit and watch quietly for birds to fly by, or to stop nearby where I can see them better.

It takes patience to go through four birding books, the internet, and my Merlin app to try to identify a bird that flew past and I only have a brief idea of what the bird looked like.

It takes patience to get up early in the morning to be waiting on the birds to get moving.

It takes patience to keep watching, keep searching, keep learning, in order to be prepared for the next new identification.

In short, birding takes patience. In participating in the activity, I have learned patience. And, I’ve learned to appreciate the moments of quiet, of introspection, and of self-discovery. It all happens because I’m learning to be patient.

And I thought my prayers weren’t being heard . . .