Waiting Cardinal

As I’ve mentioned before, I love being outside. Last spring, I especially loved it because a cardinal family made a nest in our yard. In fact, this cardinal couple didn’t just choose our yard, but my spot…

Where I sit in my Adirondack chair. 

Where I rest in the shade provided by flowering bushes and a tiny tree. 

Where I talk to God, pondering the wonders of His Creation. 

It was there, right above me, that the birds’ nest lied.  

As you can probably imagine, I was elated to discover such a wonderful gift. Birds have always been inspiring to me (the whole freedom of flight thing, I guess), but this particular type of bird has a special place in my heart:

You see, when I started college, things were rough. Like really rough. 

One fall evening, I found myself on a wooded walking trail bawling my eyes out and pleading with God to make things better. I rounded a corner and stopped in my tracks—a brilliant cardinal, bright red against the wood’s fading browns, was perched right in front of me.

Stoic and still. Assured. 

I can’t explain it, but I knew that cardinal was there for me. That God had put this calm, confident bird in my path… in a time when I was anything but. Upon seeing that bird, my soul was instantly soothed. I knew that I could count on the Lord, that somehow, He would make a way. 

And He did. The very next day. 

Ever since then, cardinals have been my own little reminder of God’s provision, and let me tell you, I’ve been needing this reminder lately. But first, back to last year’s cardinal couple…

As I was sitting in the garden, I heard the sharp call of a cardinal. She swooped across our yard and landed somewhere in the bushes behind me. Still chirping. Loudly. It wasn’t typical for that mama cardinal to draw attention to herself, especially when I was outside. So, I had two theories for her erratic behavior:

Either I blended into the background of the greenery (while wearing my rainbow tie-dye shirt, of course), or this mama was so focused on getting back to her eggs that she decided to overlook the giant tie-dyed monster sitting beneath her (I don’t know about you, but I’m leaning towards option two). And the weird thing was, I had no idea why she was being so vocal. I mean, I kept my distance from her nest (just sat there, hardly moved, and definitely didn’t get too close) and none of the stray cats were prowling nearby. All was quiet and calm. Except for her. 

She stayed that way as she hopped from bush to bush, branch to branch, chirping with reckless abandon… until she landed, finally, in her home. 

As soon as she settled into her nest, she stilled. It was like her peace had been restored; this was where she was meant to be. It was amazing to see, and it reminds me of this season that I’m in:

Simply put, I’m low on income. Creative careers aren’t easy to fund, and while I could easily get a job somewhere, I sense the Lord calling me to wait. Since working 20-30 hours a week would drastically cut down my creative time—and He’s made it clear that this authorial/artistic passion is my God-given calling—I have to wait for Him to provide.

Somehow, someway, He’ll either get me a job with only 5 hours a week, kick start my product purchases, or do something else that only He knows. Until then, I’m waiting… just like this cardinal family was waiting for their eggs to hatch.

And the thing is, waiting doesn’t just demand patience; it also requires surrender. 

Like a mama bird waiting for her babies to arrive, she has no way of knowing the exact day and time that her waiting will finally be brought to an end.  It is out of her control. Beyond her. She has no choice but to surrender. 

She has to let her Creator rule. 

Readers, can you imagine how disastrous it would be if that mama cardinal had decided, oof! Enough’s enough! I’m just gonna peck these shells until my babies come out? The results wouldn’t have been good! It's the same with us: we have to wait for our Father’s timing, which only He knows.

This may seem obvious, but we are not God. We are finite and limited and our plans do not hold up. I’ve been learning this the hard way, learning to fully surrender myself to the Lord. I pray that you do too. 

So let go, dear friends, just like these cardinal parents did; in the waiting, He is working.