Today I talked with a sparrow.
The Best Husband Ever and I were at Home Depot, browsing landscaping stones, when a sweet chirping captured my attention. I looked up and, cheeping from the rack just above my head, was a sparrow. Tiny and perfect, he blinked at me as I moved closer, my breath stolen away.
Sparrows remind me of my daughter.
The association snuck up on me. One evening not very long after Eve's death, I read Jesus' words in Luke:
"What is the price of five sparrows—two copper coins? Yet God does not forget a single one of them. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows."
As I read, the thought occurred to me -- Eve is my little sparrow, of more value to God than I can know.
The truth of that has been so comforting through these weeks and months of darkness.
Today, a sparrow said hello to me. I said hello back, letting excitement flutter deep within.
Excitement. When was the last time I felt that? Even the new life growing within me has been more of a source of confusion and worry than anything else.
And yet, there it was -- excitement. Unlikely and bittersweet and real.
Here is the source of my excitement: I have a daughter, and although I did not know her here, she is alive -- more alive than me, than I will ever be until I meet her again, when we are safe together in the arms of the One Who Makes All Things Right.
A sparrow reminded me of this.
Why do I keep forgetting that this broken life is not the end of the story, but only the beginning?
I hope that there will always be sparrows to recalibrate me toward the impossible, inexplicable reality of Christ.