Shelter

This spring and summer have not been stellar seasons for hummingbird watching around my house.  One or two birds persistently visit the feeder, and so I, a dedicated “birder” persistently replace the sweet syrup, despite the abundant natural nectar available nearby. Today, the third morning in a row of rainfall, however, brought a change to one bird’s habit, as a tiny hummingbird landed near the top of my feeder. Neither hovering nor sipping, the hummer instead perched on the feeder’s metal support bracket for over 10 minutes- an eon in hummingbird time. Was it seeking shelter there under the porch eave? Its hunched silhouette reminded me of someone huddling for protection.

Our local Bosque River is rising towards flood level and some roads are blocked.  On our land, even the deer, rabbits and squirrels have retreated to the dense cover of the live oak grove or soggy, tall grasses in the downhill meadow.  Nothing we are experiencing comes close to the unfolding tragedy to the south and west of us in the beloved Texas Hill Country.  Though there are many miles between here and there, photos of the scarred and scoured riverbanks, the uprooted trees and destroyed campsites and homes left behind by the rushing rivers break all of our hearts, over and over and over again. Those photos tell a deeper story, not of property destroyed, but of precious lives lost. Words provide scant comfort to those whose lives have been upended, uprooted, and forever changed.

Yes, words fail us. We stumble and stutter to find ways to communicate our collective sorrow.  One word, however, does emerge, brought to my window on the drenched wings of a tiny bird, a bird who found what safety it could; a bird who guided its flight toward an overhanging eave; a tiny messenger who sought shelter for a little while, inadequate though it might be for the long term.

Shelter

Shelter is often temporary.  Just like a lean-to designed to provide some protection from the heat, wind or rain, an altogether different kind of shelter-emotional, spiritual, relational- provides a place to gather ourselves, to momentarily take a breath, and to huddle near to whatever sustenance and comfort we can find.  This kind of shelter does not permanently solve problems or restore things that are lost. It is not a band-aid placed on a gaping wound.  Shelter in its many forms has its ways of offering us a modicum of warmth in a world that has suddenly turned cold and harsh. We shelter-in-place, as well we should, and gather around us what we need to survive. Shelter is never intended to be our permanent home. Shelter provides what we need for a while.  Shelter is, in its own time and in its own place, essential.

When it is impossible to resume a future we once had planned for our loved ones and for ourselves, shelter serves its tender purpose.  Shelter offers a place to gather with those whom we love and who love us. There will be days ahead when we leave that shelter; days that necessitate other ways of being and moving; days that require decisions or plans.

But that day is not today. 

It would be presumptive and hurtful to compare the grief and sorrow that unfolds from this disaster to events in my own life.  What I can offer is my story.  Over a quarter of a century ago, a tragedy occurred in my family, the aftermath of which we live with each and every day, from that time until today.  What I recall from those dark times is that often what was the most comfort to me was not a word, not a gesture, not even a prayer, though many were offered and gratefully received.  What I do remember most was the simple presence of people who sat with me, who lingered nearby, who offered me protection and sustenance.  What I do remember, all these years later, is the feeling of shelter as I was supported by the arms of those who loved me and who shared my grief.  I remember the loving Presence of the One who never fails.

Today, a hummingbird sought shelter from its own inhospitable corner of the world, from the excruciatingly unpredictable life that it, and we humans, all share. When events not of our choosing forever change the landscape that we once called our everyday lives, I hope, yes, I pray, for

Shelter

May Shelter surround all those who hurt, in this moment, during this week, for the months ahead, and yes, even into the decades to come.

I …take refuge in the shelter of Your wings.  Psalm 61: 4