Mama’s Sparrow

I pass some of the cold winter days by doing indoor spring cleaning. One day I decided to tackle the china cabinet. This task always takes a little longer than it should. Without exception, I end up on a side track down memory lane. I came across a small ceramic bird. I smiled as a tear came to my eye. The poor little thing has no color left on it at all. It has no monetary value. Honestly, to most people, it’s downright ugly.

Years ago my mother took a ceramic class. She chose this little bird to use as an ornament in her garden. She painted him in a bright yellow color similar to that of a Gold Finch. But even though this little guy had gone through the kiln, he just couldn’t hold his paint. I believe mom also tried to repaint him with a different type of paint. But, it was to no avail. After one season, once again, he would be pale, gray, and weather-worn. 

 I returned to my home state to visit my parents only a few times a year. In the summer months, I had a tradition. I always cleaned out and weeded my mother’s flower gardens. Forty years of growing seasons led to Irises, Shasta daisy, Violets, and Creeping Phlox had gone rogue. It made me feel like I could make up for all the days that I could not be there to help my aging parents. Nestled there among the flowers would be mom’s ugly little sparrow. I picked him up and set him off to the side as I pulled weeds and thinned out flowers. Then, when I was finished, I would put down fresh mulch and put the little guy back in his place.

When the time came that we had to go through our parent’s home, I was asked for a list of things I would like to have.  Included in my top five picks was the sparrow. I no longer put him outside. Instead, he sits among the rest of my treasures in the china cabinet. Whenever I see him, I remember days gone by on a small, Iowa farm. Wrens were setting on the clothesline singing their sweet song.  Cardinals on top of the cottonwood trees are joining in the chorus with a pheasant calling from a nearby cornfield. 

Who knew that a weather-worn ceramic bird could hold such precious memories?

My mom went home to be with the Lord several years ago now. Oh, how I would give anything to pull weeds in her garden just one more time. Yet, I will find comfort in knowing that the space between us is only a breath away in the vapor of our lives. I will see her again. Until then, I will tend to the flowers of my own garden. I will guard with vigilance the things that really matter in life; Jesus Christ, family, and our time together.

Indeed the best things in life can be found in simplicity.