Not One Sparrow Will Fall

We were at the store when my wife took my daughter's call. "Bad news, Mom. Sweetie died."

Sweetie is-or was-our pet parakeet. She has endeared herself to our hearts because she reminded us so much of our daughter when she was a toddler.

Back then, my daughter kept our attention glued to herself with her cute precocious antics. She would climb onto a table and address us as though she was rallying us to some supreme never-say-die cause. Only, she was speaking in gibberish because she had yet to advance to intelligible in her language skills. She started reading before anyone could teach her how and she amazed us with her ability to construct creative figures with plastic connect-together toys.

Sweetie was kind of like that. I would greet her when I come home, "Sweetie-pie, Sweetie-pie. Hello, Sweetie-pie." She would perk up and respond with major squawks and tweets. Then she would clamber all over her perches and move from one bird toy to the next, swinging all of them, climbing over hanging balls, ringing little bells with her beak.

When she notices that the computer or TV has got us distracted, the screeches and chirps would resume and the toys would be dancing and tinkling. I never thought such a tiny creature could cause such a huge commotion.

One time I happened to practice a worship song with my guitar right next to her cage, she just warbled along. When I stopped, she would stop. When I start singing again, she would sing too.

Sweetie's passing away is a mystery to us. We were sure she had adequate food and water. The cage was clean. She was in her usual bubbly mood when we left.

What is not mysterious is the grief we all feel. Sweetie was family. She was somebody we all looked forward to coming home to. She was this small, charming creature who has now rendered our home too quiet. She was this little dynamite who no longer occupies this generously-sized cage that is now so visibly absent from where it used to sit.

LORD, when you and I first walked together, you taught me to "give thanks in all circumstances" (1 Thessalonians 5:18). You taught me back then that on this side of glory, there will be times when this will be hard to do. I choose to obey, LORD. For "To obey is better than sacrifice" (1 Samuel 15:22).

I do see cause to give thanks. As I imagine Sweetie's motionless body lying on the cage floor, she reminds me of the sparrows you spoke about in your Word:

"Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father." (Matthew 10:29)

Thank you that you regard us more valuable than many sparrows (Matthew 10:31b) but you allow nothing to happen even to them that is not according to your purpose.

Thank you, Father, for if you have a number for each hair on our heads (Matthew 10:30), you cannot be unaware of our grief. Thank you that you share in our grief.

Thank you that while a bird may be "insignificant" compared to us, your children, you can teach us inspite of its demise about how you would go to great lengths to be attentive to us so that we need not fear evil (Matthew 10:31a).

Goodbye, Sweetie.

Thank you, Father.

In Jesus' Name, I pray. Amen.