It’s the middle of September and there are 21 sparrows around the feeder. Last spring, there were only eight.
In late March, we had watched as pairs of sparrows busily built a series of nests in the upper corners of our garage. Then there was a period of relative silence as the adults took turns sitting on their brood. A raccoon must have gotten to some of the eggs as we noticed a few shell flakes on the garage floor. But somehow most of the nests were untouched.
Within a matter of weeks, a growing clamor was heard as the eggs hatched and the babies cried out for their share of the food. The adults were now scurrying back and forth to the garage from the feeder or from the woods. Again there was some attrition as one or two tumbled out of the nest too early. Yet most of them seemed to survive.
By late July, the youngsters were old enough to accompany their parents. The first few days they were awkward in their flight and in their perching. Some of them no doubt fell prey to cats or the occasional red-tailed hawk that swoops down. A survival instinct quickly developed, however, so that the new ones would dart away at any strange sight or sound.
In some cases, the newborns were now bigger than the adults but they were not embarrassed to still let their parents feed them. Enough were coming to maturity to permanently swell the numbers hopping and pecking around the feeder. Even at full size, however, they are a very small bird. Who can imagine bothering to eat one? By the time the feathers were stripped and the insides cleaned, there would hardly be a bite left.
“Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God?” (Lk. 12:4).
Sometimes, we feel forgotten by God. We worry whether He cares about our problems and we fear lest we be tried beyond what we can bear. Does He hear? Will He provide? Will He nurture? Surely if He has not forgotten any of those sparrows, He will not forget any of His sons or daughters at any time.
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One