THE STRAIGHT POOP

Photo courtesy of Ian Dacek

The Straight Poop

(A Lesson Learned from a Little Bird)

By Karen Sue Hale

            I heard a loud chirping. Wait a minute. This elevator is in the center of the building, not near any outside walls. That must be a really loud bird!

            I stepped out on the first floor and saw the source of the sound. A small, brown bird fluttered around the foyer, spied a tree, and flew straight at it. Crash! Stunned, he fell back against an invisible barrier. He did this repeatedly. Obviously, he did not understand glass walls and was wearing himself out trying to fly through them.

            My compassion for the poor, little bird was greater than my fear of approaching something wild. I was the only person in the building, and it was up to me to return him to the outside world, whatever it took. I prayed the Lord would give me the courage and ability. I tried to open the front doors. Locked. The only exit was at the back of the building. I couldn’t shoo him that direction; so I decided Brownie (yes, by now I’d named him) might be tired enough that I could catch him.

            After several one-handed attempts, I put down my papers and began to use both hands. Immediately after one of Brownie’s suicide slams, I managed to catch him as he lay exhausted on the floor. His beak flew open in a silent scream, and I could feel his little heart beating wildly. I hoped he wouldn’t poop in my hand. “Brownie, I’m not going to hurt you.” I talked to him in the soothing voice I would use with an injured first grader. “I know you don’t want me to hold you, but it’s the only way I can get you home. Please don’t die. We’re nearly there. Everything will be all right.”

            I opened the back door and gently set Brownie down. He quickly flew toward other birds of his type, chirping frantically as he went. I imagined he must be telling his tale. “I was trapped in this strange place with air so hard I couldn’t fly through it. I kept crashing and bouncing to the ground. Along came a very large creature that walked rather than flying. She captured me; but she let me go, and I’m back home!”

            Mrs. Bird probably squeaked back, “Yeah, right. You’re late for dinner again, and you offer that lame excuse.”

            As I walked to my car I thought, “Way too often, I’m like that little bird. I flit around, trying to solve my own problems, only to bounce off the things I didn’t anticipate in life. Then, I foolishly go back to the same barrier instead of realizing that is not the way out. Meanwhile, I have a heavenly Father soothingly saying, ‘Let me carry you in the palm of my hand. You may feel a little confined at times, but I won’t hurt you.  I want to carry you safely home.’”

            I can daily struggle to achieve the pleasures of this world that remain on the other side of those glass walls, or I can submit to the Lord. I must trust Jesus enough to rest in his hand. He will carry me safely through my time on earth and eventually take me to the home he has prepared for me in heaven, a home far greater than my limited imagination can conceive (John 14:1-4). Allowing myself to be controlled by the Lord is not always comfortable, but his perfect love casts out all fear. I can continue to trust that he’s carrying me home, even when things get a little scary. Jesus promised to hold us in his hand, and no one can snatch us from him (John 10:28).

            The next time I feel as if I’m crashing into invisible walls, I’m going to ask myself whether I’m allowing God to carry me or I’m striking out on my own. I’m going to stop, spend some time in prayer and Bible study, and wait on the Lord to show me what to do. Thank you, Lord, for using a little bird to teach me to depend on you.