Never found a friend quite like him again

I hadn't seen him in quite awhile. Slightly older, a little greyer, but my Dad's friend still had the same gentle voice as I had remembered. Time seemed to stop as we talked outside the front of the hardware store. We were only steps away from the same lumber yard where years earlier - before I was of school age - my Dad and I would visit almost every Tuesday, where he would catch up with his friends.

It didn't take long for us to start reflecting on things past...and the one person we had in common - my Dad. It doesn't happen as often as it used to, but I felt tears welling up when he said, "I still miss Don. He was 12 years older than me, but I've never found a friend quite like him again." Sixteen years after my dad died and I had just learned something special about him! I thought the bank containing memories of my Dad was as full as it was ever going to be.

I had never heard someone describe my Dad in that way - as a person whose friendship he's "never been able to find again". Dad and I were just starting to become friends when God called him home so suddenly and unexpectedly on April 30, 1999. So, I got a sense of what this man was saying as he described their friendship. He continued to tell me how they were always on the 'same page'. They looked at life through the same lens, and they were able to identify with one another. I saw, in that moment, the gift of friendship that this man had received through the knowing of my Dad...one that I have never been able to fully know.

I saw Jesus that day. I saw him weeping at the grave of his friend Lazarus. I saw him moved and troubled by the sorrow that was being expressed by Lazarus' friends. Jesus' humanity allowed him to feel the brokenness of this world that sin has caused, and he felt the impact of death's cold hand upon their lives. I heard him call to his friend, "Lazarus, come out." And, I heard him command, "Unbind him and let him go." John 11:1-45. And, death released his friend.

As life goes on, and death steals our loved ones away, we may never find the same type of friendships again here on earth. But Jesus has been there. He knows what it means to lose a friend. He has cried and I believe he cries with us when we mourn lost friendships. And, when we find new friends and laugh together, I believe Jesus laughs and smiles like proud parents would smile as they watch their children laugh and play with new found friends.

This morning, while getting ready to attend our worship service, I was singing, "What a friend we have in Jesus." Unknowingly, I would again hear this same song quoted by our pastor as he described how John Scriven, the author of this song, penned the words after losing not one, but two fiancées just days prior to the weddings. After losing two special people in his life, he was still able to say:

"Have we trials and temptations?
Is there trouble anywhere?
We should never be discouraged;
Take it to the Lord in prayer.
Can we find a friend so faithful
Who will all our sorrows share?
Jesus knows our every weakness;
Take it to the Lord in prayer."

If you've ever lost a friend whose friendship you feel you've been unable to replace, know that Jesus' friendship is greater than any earthly friendship will ever be. Take comfort, we'll be separated from our friends who have died in Christ for only a short time. Our separation is not permanent.

And, one day when Jesus returns, I'll hear him say to my Dad, "Don, come out. Unbind him and let him go." And, we'll be able to catch up...I'll ask him to take me to his favourite lumber yard...and we'll hang out...maybe go out for a chocolate dipped DQ style ice cream cone. 'Cause I'm sure if ice cream cones had been invented when John wrote Revelation, he would have included it in his description of The Golden City, The New Jerusalem!

Repeating mistakes, expecting different results

We pleaded using our best 'Robinese' but, they ignored us. We told them that ravenous creatures roamed late at night but, they told us they could handle it. We shared stories of previous squatters who boldly claimed the right to nest only to leave on a wing and a prayer - sans fledglings. Year...after year...after year.

You see, we have a covered porch that wraps around most of our house; and many of God's creatures, (some wanted, but many of them unwanted), share living and breathing space with us rent free. Some of our tenants, like our robin friends, have attempted to start a family in the rafters above a certain light fixture under our porch's roof. I guess the warmth and light create an ambience similar to a fireplace in a log cabin conducive to...oh, where was I? Back to the robins. We've never attempted to remove or discourage nest building activity because it usually happens in the span of what feels like "Hey, where'd that come from?" or so. And, more than that, have you ever studied how intricately built a bird's nest is? However, for all their ingenuity and craftiness, they really don't behave wisely or rationally.

I don't know if they are the same robins year after year, but today we witnessed the calamity all over again. The robins had spent the last few days building a nest, slightly to the left of last year's settlement; Mrs. Robin had laid her eggs and had started her 12 - 14 day staring competition with our straw filled scarecrow. Day 1 hadn't even concluded and her progeny fell to the paws of a ruthless, but I can only assume, hungry raccoon. Although, skunks are known to prey on bird eggs, too. Judging by the sort of 'nature' left behind, I'm going with a raccoon!

It's puzzling. Each year, the same scene happens over and over...like Groundhog Day with Bill Murray...but, this one never ends well - save for one mating season a few springs ago. Wouldn't it make sense if the local robin community banded together and taught each other about the perils of starting a family under the Vanderlaan porch - cozy and inviting as it might seem? If only last year's unsuccessful pairing could fly by and chirp, "Hey, we've flown a mile in your talons. We have a much better spot than that poor excuse for a bird house." Nope. Instead, this year's lovebirds thought, (and I use the term 'thought' loosely), this is the year that will be different only to fly away as empty nesters for all the wrong reasons yet again.

And, really, what am I thinking? They're birds!! I mean, if they were rational, and understood predator behavior, they wouldn't make the same mistake, ignore sage advice, or loving help from those who've been there, done that, and got the T-shirt.

So, for the purpose of this blog and really not for the benefit of robins who may or may not be able to read: to all those whose 'nest' is built on vulnerable perches, know that you're not alone. You're not the first person to build a nest where predators prowl. There is hope. More than that, there is help to rebuild.

When you're ready to fly, you won't be alone. Soar like an eagle, my friend, soar!