It's easy to get the winter blahs when there is no green.
However,
when there are no leaves,
I can see all the nests along the dry creek bed.
I found a few today
and I got to thinking
about how
they feel so
sacred to me.
It's a little home
that a bird made.
A bird.
And they hang on to these trees
in the wind
the rain
the snow.
Not just any wind.
Prairie wind.
Monday this week we had 70 mile an hour gusts.
All these little nests are still there.
And I thought about how a nest is a home.
A place for
love,
nurturing,
nourishing,
protection,
wing-growing.
I thought about how I want
to be intentional
about creating my house to be a sacred place,
no matter how little and cramped it may be,
no matter how messy it might get at times.
But asking myself,
How can I make this a sacred wing-growing home?
How can I make it a place
of love, nurture, nourishment, protection, faith building, wing-growing?
A safe house,
yet a growing house...
Somehow,
looking at the tiny little nests
built on faith,
I began to see
my little nest
and the work
that I do there
with different eyes
today.
