October 13, 2014

Reflections

Eagles are something special between me and God. Moving to the west side of our state yielded my first sighting of our national bird, and each subsequent sighting added another note of God’s grace. It became a God thing, for on days when the world seemed especially blue, the sudden movement of blackened wings often appeared, and seeing them felt like a show of affection from a loving Father. Seeing them was a special reminder of how God doles out His blessings in generosity and love.

After our move we found a pair of nesting eagles on a lake near our home. On winter days we could count on seeing them educating their little ones out on the open ice. Some time passed, and I realized it had been a while since an eagle sighting. So one blustery early-spring Sabbath, I asked to stop at our eagle-sighting spot on the way home from church. I needed to see an eagle and be reminded of my God. I should have trusted that He would provide, but like Sarah of old, I took matters into my own hands.

I was the only one to brave the wind and climb from the comfort of our car to wade through knee-high weeds that winter had turned to dried pickles. I gazed at the shoreline and whispered: “Please, Father, I’m in need of an eagle hug.”

What met my sight was a large dark bird, perched on a distant branch. It was the size of a small eagle, but the telltale patches of white weren’t there. I took out my binoculars and studied the creature. It lifted its head in my direction. It looked like a hawk, so I continued looking around the area hoping for an eagle sighting.

Nothing.

“Please, Father,” I prayed out loud.

I had no sooner uttered those words when the bird lifted from its perch and flew in my direction. The silly thing even flapped like an eagle! The bird made a show of it, slowly flying above my head before doing a long lazy loop across the street. Turning, it returned in an even slower glide. It appeared to hover overhead for a split second before gliding to a nearby tree to stare down at me.

“You, Mr. Hawk, may fly like an eagle, but you are not an eagle.” I shook my finger at the bird.

I looked heavenward. Wouldn’t God help out?

However, I wasn’t about to let this bird go unidentified. I grabbed my bird book and quickly flipped to “hawks” and stared at the bird, memorizing its beak, its feet, and its markings. Nothing matched. I returned to the car, saddened that my plan had not worked. I slowly realized that on this day God expected me to depend on faith and remember that I was indeed His child and mightily loved.

Two miles away, on the way home, I started laughing out loud.

God had indeed sent His special hug, His unique sign between us. Like Sarah, I had tried to force His hand. And God had, in His special way, with His own sense of humor, responded.

He had sent my eagle—one that hovered remarkably over my head. I had just been too blind to see it. This whole time I had been staring at an immature bird—one that hadn’t yet gained its white head and tail feathers.

Eagle sightings will always be something special between God and me, but I let Him provide the moments now as I try to see things with new eyes opened by a loving heavenly Father.

Advertisement
Advertisement