Thursday, January 19, 2012

Dreams from Childhood

My summers, growing up, were spent camping. Ok, to be fair, we camped in a campground and in a trailer, not a tent, but it was still camping. We'd raft down rivers, play in the woods, pick berries, and explore the great world around us. One of our favorite spots was this old railroad car sitting on top of this hill.

My Childhood Dream
I'm pretty sure I liked it because I wanted to be one of the kids from "The Boxcar Children." You know, the orphans who lived in a boxcar? Yeah, I don't know why I wanted to be one either, but my childhood fantasies generally revolved around that and Little House on the Prairie. I'm pretty sure I was big on things like making my own flour and butter, and wished we still lived by candlelight. So the opposite of pretty much every kid out there now. Anyway, this old railroad car was AMAZING! It had doors, ladders, cupboards, and it was SUPER OLD AND RICKETY!!! (I really am amazed my parents let us play there. More than one splinter happened, and at some point, I think my cousin stepped on a rusty nail.) However, as awesome as it was, those are not the things I think of when I remember back to my days of make believe.

No, I remember one very sad day. My friends and I were on our way to our usual hangout, but this time, something was different! My friends found a nest with baby birds, chilling in one of the cupboards. Being the geniuses that we are, we assumed that the mom had left them to die, and they were now orphans, just like the Boxcar Children! We adopted them as our new mascot, and went to go find worms to mash up and feed them with. Along the way, one of our parents stumbled upon us, and we excitedly told them of our discovery.

Being an adult, they knew the rule that you don't touch nests or baby birds, because once the stink of humans is in the air, that momma bird is never coming back, and the little birds will die. They explained that we had basically just killed these birds, and no, smashing worms to try and feed them for one afternoon wouldn't save them. We were devastated. I mean, they practically called us murderers and idiots in one fell swoop. That hurts when you're little and it's your mom telling you this. But she was right, because the next day when we came back, one had fallen out and died, one was dead in the nest, and the second was just barely hanging on. I'm  not sure about this part, but I think one of the parents did the merciful thing and put it out of its misery, but maybe that's just wishful thinking.

Now, I know you're probably thinking, "Wow, Lauren, that's kind of a depressing story, and I don't really care." That's ok. Hang out just a little bit longer with me.

For some unknown reason, this story flashed into my mind, and it got me thinking. We're pretty much those little birds. God's our mom, and the World is, well, me in the story. We get dragged into the World, by our own desires or theirs, and we think that we can never return to our nest, or that God will certainly never have anything to do with us, now that the stink of the World is all around. So we try to make it on our own, we stay where we are, in denial, or we let the World dictate what's going to happen, and let them put us out of our misery.

But the thing is, we have another option. Because God, while He is "the mother bird" in the story, His behavior is nothing like her's. He will come and fight for us, nurture us. He's not leaving us, simply because we have the stink of the World. He's bound and determined to fight for us. We just have to choose to let Him. Because we can't fix ourselves on our own, we can't stay where we are, and letting the World have its way, well, it's just not good enough for me. I want His way. Join me.

Thank you all for reading! It means so much to me.

1 comment:

  1. As mom, I either had no idea how how devastating that experience was, have forgotten or just become so much more aware of how things are remembered thru the eyes of a child. I'm continually amazed how you can take a moment from history & use it to help readers see Him every day.