I don't usually get a lot of visitors. I'm skittish around most people, so even when someone shows up in my neck of the woods, I tend to flee at the slightest movement or sound.
I should probably mention at this point that I am not what you think. I am not a human as you might have suspected. I am a blue bird. Perhaps you can find me in the picture on this page?
Considering what I've already told you about my track record with visitors, it may come as a shock to you to see me in the palm of a human being. But let me assure you this is no ordinary human I've nestled against.
Francis is unlike any human I've ever encountered before. I've often seen him walking and singing through the countryside. He's always barefoot, with a rough brown robe for his clothing and a simple rope tied around his waist for his belt. His eyes are often crinkled at the edges from his smile. He has a gentle spirit, and seems simultaneously passionate and patient.
Despite his differences from the average human, I had kept my distance most days. The closest I ever got was to perch on a branch above his head when he had stopped from his walking to rest against the trunk of my tree. He had been singing, and as you know, birds love singing.
But on this particular day pictured above, things were different. The story of that day has spread far and wide, and many have told it and even more have heard of it. But I was there. I remember.
Francis had come walking out to the edge of the woods, into a small clearing. He looked around with amazement and adoration in his eyes as he surveyed the landscape.
You'd have to know a little about him to understand this. You see, Francis was a religious man. A Christian. As a bird, I don't know much about the religions of the humans, but Francis made an obvious connection between his God and the Created Order. All of Creation was dear to him, because God had made and loved that same Creation. So in looking out at the land and trees and flowers, I could tell he loved it all.
His eyes scanned around the clearing, and suddenly, he saw me and my fellow birds. Grinning even wider, he held his hands out in a welcoming gesture. Then the most unexpected thing happened. He began to preach. Francis was preaching to birds.
Some of you reading this may find this to be an odd action for a human to make. But as a bird, I must say, I have never felt more acknowledged and appreciated in all my life. Francis spoke about how blessed I was for my marvelous clothing. I spread my wings to look at my feathers, and I couldn't help but agree with him. God cared for us, he told us. I couldn't help but feel that if God inspired this passionate man to preach to me, then certainly that same God cared for me too.
When he was finished with his sermon, Francis walked among us birds. We stood still, showing him honor without fear. When he came near to me, I found myself drawn to him. His message had been so powerful, his eyes so full of passion, and his voice so eager and warm. Now all I wanted to be near to that kind of presence. So I did what I have never done before, nor ever done since. I flew toward him and landed in his outstretched hand.
I can't fully explain the connection I made when I perched in Francis' palm. The best I can tell you is that I realized that if Francis loved me because he loved his God, then that must mean that God loves me too. Francis' words came back to me about God's care and provision. It made sense.
By and by, Francis had to leave. He was meant to continue preaching, not only to birds, but to the masses of humans that lived in towns and cities. Something tells me that if he brought the kind of passion that he did to birds, his message to the humans must have been even more passionate and enticing.
I know that God cares, because Francis cared enough to stop and speak to me. Perhaps that's what the point is for you reading. Care for each other, so that you can show God's care too.
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