Barn Swallows

My porch is pristine white, neat and tidy. I didn't want that dirty nest in the corner. I knocked it down with a stick, shot it down with a stream of water, and sprayed it with Raid. Still the barn swallows persisted in building the rough, saucer-sized mud nest in the corner of my porch. The male and female traded out flying in with mud and straw in their beaks. I finally tired and gave up.

After the nest was finished, I got up late in the night and turned on the porch light. There in the corner, I saw the two birds perched on either side of the nest, feathers fluffed, guarding their special creation in their sleep.

I teared up as I remembered how Sam and I fought determinedly to have our son through seven years of marriage. And how God answered our prayers with the red-haired screamer. (Neighbors from the end of our road would often come up to see "if everything was all right.")He screamed from the moment he hit the West Texas air; he screamed while playing, while running, while riding his gocart, while riding his horse, while swimming, etc. Sam and I often perched on either side of him, guarding our treasure through life's woes--toddling and falling, playground accidents, middle-school teasing, numerous girl friend episodes and so on.

That night I asked God for forgiveness for my destructive bent toward one of his creatures and thanked him for another life lesson learned from a dirty mud nest.