Welcome to Wilco Wednesday! If you are a new around these parts, “Wilco” is Army-speak for “Will Comply.” Think of it as saying “Roger, God. Got it. Will do.” So that is what Wednesday here at 7 Days Time is all about– exploring his decrees and seeking guidance for what complying with Him looks like in everyday life. The best part? He loves us for who we are, not what we do. Remember: He doesn’t want perfection, just obedience. Share. Enjoy. Interact. Welcome today’s guest blogger, my dear friend and our courageous PWOC president, Carriann Lane.
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There is a nest outside my window as I touch the stacks of books I’m preparing for bible study. It seems like a good nest. In His Word, I hold hope in my hands, and my heart travels back to a nest that was not a good nest at all.
My children were 6, 11, and 13. A bird made a nest of mud on the tiny ledge of our front door. The children discovered her beautiful little eggs, to their great delight. Every day, they rushed to check the eggs. I prayed these little birds would survive, and I believed they might. I smiled and reminded my own not to touch the nest or the eggs.
As the nest grew closer to bringing forth new life – new life that my children were pinning lots of hopes on – I began to worry. I declared the front door off-limits, and made the children use the back door. I urged them to be careful when peeping in the nest, and kept quiet my thoughts of cougars, foxes and wily children.
Spring came. Foxes, dogs and children came out to play. The first small baby birds sprang forth in nests around the neighborhood, and my own baby birds – new to the Northwest, desperate for the hope of Spring after their first dark winter, for the new friends after yet another mid-year move, and for something to love while daddy was gone far away, as he often is – oh, my baby birds could hardly contain their excitement!
We were filled with joy.
No one used the back door much.
The first time I saw our baby bird, he was lying dead on the porch.
Fear, anger, worry and sorrow of the last two years flooded my soul. I dropped to the ground and I felt it all.
The cancer. The 18-month deployment. The move. The poor little girl we just couldn’t find in time, whose casket rolled into my church on the last day I’d ever worship there. The church I missed so much. The dark. The slavers and kidnappers I imagined driving up and down I-5. The children who would not obey me and use that darn back door!
I could not keep these baby birds safe, and I suddenly realized I could not keep my own baby birds safe! I could not keep their dad safe for them. I could not keep myself safe for them. I was raw, bare, and sad. I was very angry at that bird for building such a stupid nest. I was mad at the world for changing – taking away her safe wooded home, leaving her only dangerous places to next. I was mad at her too, for not realizing things had changed, for not adapting. Yes, I was very mad at mama bird, who could not keep her family safe. I’m guessing you see that Mama bird was me.
I shut the front door.
I opened another – a door to fear, allowing it a place in my life.
For the next 3 years, the girl who grew up in a home with a front door that did not even have a lock, locked her doors. Twice. Every night. She got some guns. But the fear did not leave her. Locking doors cannot drive away fear.
Closing doors can. Removing ground the enemy of our soul has to stand on when we agree with him that he may torment us, casts out fear. Light has come into the world, and the darkness cannot hide from it.
In my books, there is a story of another nest. A hunter watches a great serpent climb toward a nest. Mother bird sees the serpent coming. Alarmed, she flaps her wings, makes loud noises and huge amounts of commotion. The serpent doesn’t care. He comes for her and her children, because he knows that her noise and flapping can’t hurt him. Mother stares at the serpent, and flies away! She has left her babies alone, vulnerable, and the serpent grins. He moves in.
Suddenly, the mother bird reappears, quietly places a leaf over the nest, and stands over her children as the serpent gets very close, then pauses. The serpent flicks his tongue, narrows his eyes, and retreats. He sees something the hunter does not. African tribesmen later explain that the leaf is poisonous to the snake, and the snake knows it.
The mother bird cannot take on the serpent alone. Neither can I. I can make lots of noise, stir up plenty of commotion, but the serpent knows when it has ground and when it does not. I must shelter under protection that is invisible but real. I look the serpent in the eye without fear. I am engrafted into the vine which makes the serpent retreat. He is the Vine, and we are the branches. From ancient days, Christ is He. No one can deliver out of his hand.
In the secret place of the shelter of the most high, I am delivered from fear.
Whom do I meet in this secret place? I meet the Light of the world. I run to Jesus.
“The people living in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.” Matthew 4:16
“Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she smiles at the future.” Proverbs 31:25
Carriann Lane spends her 7 days time in a myriad of projects. She is a Full-time Home Educator, Part-Time Adjunct* Humanities Faculty, Leader of Initiatives and Organizations, Certified Justice Planner, Lover of Christ, Chris, and 3 Children, Technical Writer “Trying Content Writer On for Size” Guest Blogger.
*Because she is a technical writer, she knows that “Part-Time” and “Adjunct” are redundant.
Linking up today with my friend Kristin over at Three-word Wednesday and having a little Coffee for your Heart with Holley. Oh! And be sure to join our #EverydayJesus link-up community right here at 7 Days Time every Thursday!
