Soon after we were married, my husband and I did something that showed the very high level of maturity we’d reached. We disassembled the old trampoline that was going to waste at my parents’ house, so that we could drive it a few hours to our home and reassemble it there. And we weren’t close to having kids at that point – we just wanted to enjoy the trampoline ourselves. Once we got it home and put it together, Sean and I had a few disagreements about the proper placement of a trampoline – I stood firm that the front yard was a tacky spot, so he dragged it to the backyard to please me.
The old (possibly too old, and possibly needing all its parts replaced) trampoline got its life back in our care. On it we did acrobatics and played made-up games, and I got hurt nearly every time my husband and I tried to play together. That was inevitable, since I was up against double-my-weight bounces. You won’t be surprised then when I tell you that I really loved just having the trampoline to myself. It was perfect for lounging outdoors, napping, reading, and looking up into the trees. (Actually, whenever I need to convince my body to relax, I don’t go to Aruba or to the spa in my mind. I imagine being on the trampoline on a warm day.) (I seriously do.)
One day I retreated to the trampoline, and there I begged the Lord to let me see miraculous things, like what He’d let friends of mine see. I pleaded, “At least tell me something.” Then I tried to quit talking so that I could listen. I looked up at the tall trees around our yard (where we had seven acres of an old, established property, with old, established trees). Well? What now? Would He talk? I was anxious. Afraid, I guess, that I could never be part of the club that gets to see and hear God, and has hard evidence of Him living not in dusty, ancient times with people wearing robes, but now.
While I squirmed and waited for God to make a move, I noticed something I hadn’t seen before. It was almost spring then – warm enough to sit outside, but the trees were still bare like winter. And with no leaves hiding them, I could see hundreds of birds’ nests in the trees above. Hundreds. So many! Mostly abandoned and still hanging on, I guessed, with some fresh ones mixed in. How had I missed this wonder until now? I looked from tree to tree for a while in awe, always finding more nests now that I was really looking.
I was so struck by this that I wondered if it meant something. Maybe…maybe God was going to point me to something through birds’ nests. I hopped off the trampoline and went inside.
Some of the most honest Christians I know admit that while they often try to hear and interpret God’s voice, they still sometimes get it wrong, or get it mixed up with their own thoughts. But it’s still worth the try, because sometimes they hear from Him or see Him do something, and there’s no denying it. I thought of them and took a chance. I Googled “bird’s nest” and learned some basic science of when and how they’re made. I even watched a time-lapse video of a bird making dozens of trips, bringing a string, a twig, a leaf, another twig, rearranging it all, and somehow winding up with a well-woven nest at the end.
Nothing mind-blowing happened.
There was no big revelation. No blinding God light, and no story to shout from the roof. Well, I’d given it a noble try, but I still had that feeling wringing my heart, wanting so badly for God to interact with me.
Two months passed. Then an undeniable pattern turned up in the passages I was reading in the Bible. There were a few passages that I’d wound up reading in the same week, each teaching me its own big lesson, lessons I was needing that week and will need still for decades, because they’re the lifelong kind. And the pattern looked like these, with a swatch of birds in each chapter:
“Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young…” (Psalm 84 – What it looks like to crave Him)
“Look at the birds of the air…” (Matthew 6 – He provides)
“The trees of the Lord are watered abundantly…in them the birds build their nests…” (Psalm 104 – He sustains everything)
In case this could be called coincidence, I noticed then too that the book that had just taught me to obey God in being thankful – so that I could see life’s beauty and credit it to Him – has a photograph of a bird’s nest for its cover.
I was smiling. And immediately I was documenting it, this moment that God had said something like, I did hear you from the trampoline. I am talking to you. Years ago Sean convinced me that if we aren’t documenting God, we’ll forget we ever saw Him, or heard Him. I have some great moments recorded from the times when I was diligent to write them, and I promise they’d be forgotten otherwise.
God knew the birds’ nests hiding in our trees stunned me; He knew He could get my attention if He showed me the nests again. Why did two months go by between the trampoline and this? I don’t know. For anticipation, for dramatic effect? Does God appreciate those things? I’d guess so.
To affirm it for me again, just one more time, two nests dropped right outside my kitchen window. And they were fascinating up close, too.
In a sense, it’s always a guess, since it’s always faith. But we’re likely to hear nothing, and see nothing if we don’t expect Him.
One thing I know: when I’m expecting Him, that’s when the stories come.
RACHEL KERR 