A new series where I say what's on my mind, no matter how fragmented and broken or menial, in order to learn the art of small talk — NZ's favourite pastime.
A little birdie flew into our room a couple of days ago. One of the double glass doors attached to our granny flat was opened to let fresh air in. And in came a winged creature too.
The sparrow tried to escape as soon as it arrived. But the poor thing kept hitting the door that was closed (and clear) instead.
I immediately swung into action, doing my best air traffic controller impersonation. "Go right," I said while doing the dab. It didn't work. The sparrow continued to frantically flutter, adamant on getting past the glass pane.
I decided to switch tactics and began thinking like a sheep dog by scaring the lost sheep, I mean, sparrow. I barked from the left so the birdie would fly to the right.
And it worked! It flew to its freedom, probably never to enter our room again.
But it got me thinking, what if God's been doing the same thing as I: At first, signalling us to turn eastward to New Zealand (even when I was a kid, before accepting Christ, I had a deep longing to live in NZ, my so-called "freedom" place with plenty of green pasture to lay on). Last year, he finally barked at us to move! Still, my husband and I definitely hit a glass pane several times before realising the door on the other side was already open for us.
And now that we're "free", in a land where COVID-19 isn't upending everything, we probably will never return to our teeny-tiny room in Singapore ever again. But who knows, the birdie might fly back. It is a bird after all — with a birdbrain and all.
This is my alter (of words) to God, the Living Word. All glory to Him. Numbers 6:26
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