Bring on the Juvies

This morning brought our first sight of a "juvie" as we call 'em.  The spring's new-born, fluffy wings and all, brought out of the nest and forth into our world.

For good or ill.

In this case, it was a father sparrow (all dads, take note) feeding his three babies from one of the backyard feeders.  He would flutter down to the feeder, grab a grain or two, flutter back up to the three balls of fluff waiting, impatiently, for him to drop the grain in one of their mouths.  Then, he'd flutter back down to the feeder, repeating the process for the second.  Then, the third.  On and on it went.

There is something really quite reassuring about this.  In the midst of this spring's struggles - and I've heard of many, this year in particular - nevertheless, life does go on.

Not callously.  Of course not.  It's just that the world keeps on rotating, life continues unfolding.  The Grand Mosaic - as one of my characters calls it - forms and reforms each day, endlessly.

And that helps.  When it comes to life's disappointments, I believe that it is precisely in the watching of the world's continuing rhythms that we are able to, initially, accept and, finally, release our pain.

So, bring on the juvies, I say.  Their excitement for life reminds us all that our lives, too, are beginning anew.