I had a great picture from God the other day, sitting in my sanctuary. A brown wren hopped across the concrete in front of me, as I sat in my corner outside our kitchen window. She jumped up into the Christmas cactus within arms’ reach of my right hand. Looking all around to make sure no predators were about, the wren seemed fine with me sitting there—because I was perfectly still.
I breathed slowly, silently, motionless. I watched her. She put a mouth full of twigs and brush in the nest, then flitted away. A few minutes later she was back carrying a long twig, three times her size, and some furry brush. She disappeared into the base of the Christmas cactus. I saw the leaves rustle a bit, then she flitted out and was gone.