His Eye Is On The Sparrow

I've been feeling decidedly NOT spiritual lately, chafing against too many irritations and inconveniences to mention, none of which should matter in the big scheme of things. The good news: I noticed that I was feeling decidedly not spiritual, and made a mental note to be more conscious and focused on the NOW. At one point last week I woke up with a seriously stressful issue on my mind in the early morning, and having previously made a mental note to be more conscious and focused on the NOW, and also having made note of the fact that I was feeling very not spiritual, I spontaneously entered into the Lord's Prayer as soon as I awoke with the stressful issue already at the forefront of my mind.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch....I've been reading a terrific book for about two years now, in roughly three minute increments on the John (my apologies to all of my friends and family who share the name of the seat of my private morning "meditations" ;-). I'm about halfway through it. It is not intended to be a devotional book (I don't think), but Thank God for Evolution: How the Marriage of Science and Religion Will Transform Your Life and Our World has turned out to be just that. Michael Dowd's writing has been a great comfort and validation of my spiritual evolution from what he calls "flat earth religion" to a Christianity that is in tune with the current scientific information available on the workings of the Universe and the world. I highly recommend this book, and will likely write more about it in upcoming blogs. I digress....

Because of the validation I've experienced through Michael Dowd's book, as I began praying the Lord's Prayer (a verse of scripture I've known by heart since I was a pre-schooler), I felt perfectly comfortable interpreting the Lord's Prayer in my own mind in language that fits with my evolved understanding of Jesus' teachings: "Our Father who is in Heaven, hallowed be your name (great and mysterious Universal Whole, wondrous beyond my comprehension, I trust and revere your incomprehensible perfection). Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven (though you and your mysteries are incomprehensible to me, I trust your perfection and open myself to the possibility that all can be made right in the end, and my stressful situation will work out for my good, and the good of all others involved). Give us this day our daily bread (thank you for a Universe of plenty and abundance), and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors (thank you for being bigger than my mistakes and shortcomings, and give me the grace to overlook the shortcomings and mistakes of others). Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil (I thank you for not being the Cosmic Kill Joy, trust that you are interested in my success and well being, and am grateful for providing me with positive alternatives in every situation). For yours is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever and ever. Amen. (I submit myself to the natural laws of the Universe and your infinite perfection, and acknowledge that I am but a small part of an infinitely greater whole.)"

That was the most peacefully and naturally I have prayed in...well....a long, long time. I not only felt at peace; I was at peace. The stressful situation left my mind (really), and I got on with my day. That was Saturday morning, about 6:00am.

Later, around 10:00am, my husband returned from walking the dog with a little sparrow cupped in his hands. He normally just takes the dog down to the place where he takes care of his "business" and comes straight back. But this morning he stopped by his truck to check on something. When he did, there was a little sparrow lying beside the truck, conscious but not moving. He picked him up and brought him inside to warm up and get himself together, assuming the poor thing had flown into the window of the truck and stunned itself.

I haven't had anything that might fall into the category of "supernatural" happen to me in a long, long time. In fact, I think this is one of the things that was causing me to feel not spiritual. This, of course, is merely a case of misunderstanding the relationship of cause and effect--feeling follows behavior, not the other way around. When I saw that little sparrow, helpless and stunned, I was forced in that moment to admit to myself that I had not been behaving in a very spiritual way, which is of course the reason that I had been feeling not spiritual.

What does the sparrow have to do with feeling spiritual (or not spiritual)? Despite the fact that I've been a spiritual deadbeat for months now, for whatever reason (probably the Michael Dowd book) I responded exactly as I should have when confronted with what I sometimes call "Morning Terror" (waking up early in the morning with the first thing on my conscious mind being some problem or difficulty causing great distress): I surrendered to my frail humanity and gave the problem over to the forces of the Universe, because the problem was too big for me, so big that it bludgeoned me before I even got my eyes all the way open. So I prayed, because I was truly overwhelmed by the scale of the problem I was facing.

The Universe is faithful. I responded immediately to a big problem by surrendering the problem to a higher power, admitting that it was too big for me, waving the white flag. I was immediately rewarded with peace. Four hours later I was further rewarded with a gift: the helpless little sparrow who depended on our charity for his life.

One of my all-time favorite hymns is "His Eye Is On The Sparrow," by Civilla D. Martin and Charles H. Gabriel. When my husband came into the house with a helpless little bird that was facing a problem that was too big for him, I was immediately reminded that I had exercised the same kind of blind faith in a power just as great and mysterious to me as we were to that little bird. The Universe is indeed perfection, and the lesson was not lost on me. Thanks, Universe. I get it. 

So, what happened to the little sparrow? He warmed up enough, after about an hour, that he became restless and behaved as if he was gearing up to start flying around the house. So I picked him up, took him out to the front porch, and opened my hands so he could fly away. He did so, and was immediately picked up by the wind and blown into the front bumper of my car. Bummer, dude. He hopped underneath my car, sat there for a minute, and then flew away. 

That was a good message for me, too: things don't always work out as perfectly as we would like, but that's OK. Things turn out the way they turn out, and we have to make due with the result. The little sparrow made due. And so will I.