Always Welcome

We endured all of last summer with tarps and towels stuffed into the rafters of our brand-new canopy out back. My husband had done a beautiful job replacing our pop-up seasonal pavilion with a more permanent structure. He became busy with work, however, and was starting to see the effects of the heart issue he had unknowingly developed. (There's a blog lead-in if I ever heard one. More on that another day 😉) The inside work to our roof remained incomplete, and birds built their homes in the rafters. The mess they created on the deck below was unbelievable, and their kamikaze-style entrances under the eaves were startling. When the earliest round of tenants was through with their broods, my husband stuffed the rafters to prevent any further move-ins.

Just the other day, as the weather began to break, we watched a couple of mourning doves scope out the once again exposed rafters. Mama had already picked a spot, safe from the elements and out of reach of the local cats. (Sadly, our dog is terrified of our avian squatters and provides us with no defense whatsoever.) Papa was standing by awaiting her final nod before he headed off to find building materials. 

I love the sound of the doves. Their melancholy coos in the morning. Oh, how wonderful to give a home to these gentle creatures and watch them raise their little ones! But with birds --I know --comes a huge mess. We had to serve notice before they ever got started. But as my husband began making our canopy a little less enticing, the couple sat on a nearby shed waiting for him to let down his guard. Mind you, the shed is equidistant from our deck and the cedar tree in which the doves typically nest. Year after year, they've built their nest in its branches, finding it hospitable. Apparently, this year, they were looking for an upgrade. Their determination was wondrous to me. Birds so peaceful and mild, yet they were steadfast in waiting and watching for the opportunity to defy their eviction and rest where it was most suitable.

This morning I started in Psalm 91 (Alter):

He who dwells in the Most High's shelter,
in the shadow of Shaddai lies at night --
I will say of the LORD, 'My refuge and bastion,
my God in whom I trust.' 
For He will save you from the fowler's snare,  

Those who dwell in the Most High's shelter, in the shadow of Shaddai at night take their rest, they are not displaced. Not by the Owner, for He is willing and able to deal with the mess; He does not find it impractical or inconvenient. Not by the threat of enemies, for His dwelling is ethereal, high above claws and snares; He is well able to protect those in His custody. Not by life's storms or scorching sun, for we are well within His care, nestled so far under His eaves we feel only the refreshing mist of summer rains or the gentle warmth of its breezes; all time and space and weather --inclement or otherwise --is under His sovereign power and plan.

Are we, His gentle doves, fixed on Him? Determined to find shelter where it is most suitable? Are we stationed nearby, awaiting the opportunity to run to Him for rest and protection? Or are we flying around frantically plotting ways to resolve our relationship problems or searching for the resources we need to feel secure? 

Let us be like the birds, ready to roost in the shelter of the Most High, longing to lie in His shadow at night, safe from the storms and snares, and never unwelcome.