“Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.”

The other day we cut down a tree that had rooted itself too close to our home. For years, I had been trimming it back, trying to save it as well as our house. But it seemed to thrive on the abuse and grew back stronger every spring. This year, the tree got the best of me and we had to hire someone to cut it down.

To everyone’s surprise, as the trunk toppled over, a bird’s nest that had been hidden among the foliage, fell to the ground. Five little sparrows tumbled across our lawn, cheep cheeping as they scrambled for cover.

In today’s Gospel, Christ points out that two sparrows cannot fall to the earth without the Father knowing about it.  Here, we had just knocked five of His favorite baby chicks to the ground. And, boy, were they angry!

My wife quickly and gingerly scooped them up while the parents of the chicks scolded her from a nearby evergreen. The fallen tree was propped up against the side of our house, the nest lodged back in the fork of the tree and the baby sparrows returned to their rightful place in the natural order. Or so it seemed to me.

The next thing I knew my wife was feeding the chicks spaghetti (“It’s just like worms.”) and protecting them from a downpour with a hastily rigged umbrella. Trouble was, the parents wouldn’t return to the nest as long as that umbrella was there. Despite the best of intentions, we were preventing the chicks from growing and thriving. Once we removed the umbrella, the adult birds returned to their nest. Within a week, the fledglings were fully grown and had taken flight.

I think of those sparrows when I read what Jesus said: “Do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows."

However, unlike the birds, many of my problems cannot be solved so quickly and easily. Sometimes, when the props are knocked out from under me and I lay sprawled on my back looking toward heaven, I want God to scoop me up, set me back on my feet and rig an umbrella to shield me from life’s storms. But, as with the sparrows, I realize that might not lead to growth, spiritually.

Some problems may be God’s way of saying He wants our undivided attention.

Every now and then I see a sparrow perched on the branch of another tree close by the one we cut down. I can’t help wondering if its one of the fledglings that spread their wings and flew off.  When the sparrow cocks his head and looks at me, it’s as if he’s sizing me up, seeing whether I’ve grown. I hope so.