Out in the roar of March’s winter prowl, it is still too cold for the sparrow to think of nesting. This is the tempestuous tugging between winter and spring, and March will have no clear winner. New life is either hiding or biding its time. Yet the sun is warming, and this patch of the world is turning steadily toward lengthening days.
Sparrow, my time will come before yours. I am nesting now. I am preparing a place for my not-so-hidden new life. The sun’s warmth spreads over me with an urgency as the days till Easter Sunday melt away. I must build.
I must gather the twigs, the soft grasses of autumn. I must gather the feathers, the string, and nature’s downy gifts. I must knit these comforts together in a sheltered hollow for my young.
Build with kindness, the wind whispers. This is the word I have heard. This is what I must circle our home with.
When kindness lines our days, the atmosphere changes.
Transitions are smooth.
We are all a little more settled, a little more satisfied.
There are more smiles, more hugs, more opportunities to share moments of wonder together.
When kindness lines our days, our hearts change.
Wrath is turned.
There is more repentance. There is more grace.
The Spirit’s fruit tree blossoms and bears good things, and by it were are sustained.
Kindness brings the warmth of spring to chilly days.
It is a simple investment, and small, but made mighty layer by layer. It is a habit of moments, of gathering the minutiae of life into a more gracious form. Kindness is never insignificant. By it I may build and bolster our home to be the haven I desire.
By kindness I will prepare a nest to receive you, little one – to sustain us all in the great change ahead, to soften the edges of tiring days, to warm this humble space with whispers from our good Father. His is the open hand wherein we may all rest.