Life at the Smith house has been for the birds lately.
A few weeks ago I walked out to the closed-in patio off our kitchen and discovered a dead bird lying under a window. Apparently, it flew into the glass, mistaking it for open air (I knew cleaning the window was a mistake.)
A few days later I was napping when I heard a commotion downstairs. I heard my husband, Bob, say, "Get out of here. Go on, go outside. The door's wide open. Fly, through it!"
I set foot on the stair landing and got dive-bombed by something whizzing close enough to ruffle my hair.
"Bob, there's a bird in the house!" (When in doubt, state the obvious.)
"Ya think?" he snapped, waving a broom.
"I've been trying to get it to fly out the front door, but the stupid thing won't go."
"Where did it come from?" I asked.
"Well," he began, "when a mommy bird and a daddy bird love each other verrrry much. "
"I mean, how did it get in the house?" (The man clearly has a problem with sarcasm.)
"It must have come through that," he said, pointing to a hole in the wall meant to accommodate the pipe for a wood stove. Since we don't have one, we keep the hole plugged up with a metal plate, which had been dislodged.
The poor creature continued its frenzied flight, landing on picture frames, drapes and light fixtures.
"Why don't you two take care of this?" Bob said, addressing our cats, Minnie and Checkers. (The former looked bored and the latter looked terrified. It seemed we wouldn't be getting much help from the feline faction.)
Eventually our uninvited guest got the hint and flew out the front door. Breathing a sigh of relief Bob then repositioned the plate over the hole.
The next morning, I was awakened again by Bob's exasperated voice.
"Are you kidding me?" he asked. "Again? Another one."
It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to deduce there was another bird in the house. Walking down the stairs, I saw that the metal plate had come out again.
"Where's the bird?" I asked Bob, ducking and looking skyward like the wicked witch in the "Wizard of Oz"when Glinda opined she just might get a house dropped on her.
"It's behind the refrigerator," Bob said. "I'm trying to flush it out."
"That would work better if it was in the bathroom," I quipped. (Bob was not amused.)
Like its predecessor, bird No. 2 found a way out, and Bob found a roll of duct tape to secure the plate. It's funny, the lengths to which creatures go to be free. I've no doubt both birds would have died trying to escape, had they not found the door.
We humans are much the same. We rail against the bonds sin places on us until we find true freedom in Christ.