When is a Window Not a Window? When It's a Pane.

Not one [sparrow] falls to the ground without the Father knowing it. Matthew 10:29

I was sitting at my computer the other day, happily minding my own business when I heard a heavy thunk out front. I recognized the sound, for I’ve heard it a number of times before. It was the sound of a bird smacking up against the living room window. The last bird that did that had died instantly. I have a set of outside blinds I use to cover the window to help prevent bird-strikes. Birds don’t realize the reflection of sky and trees off the glass isn’t real, so I generally roll down the blinds to eliminate confusing reflections. Sadly, we have had so much wind blowing lately that I can’t leave them down, lest they be ripped away by our wintry gales.

I stepped outside and, just as I had feared, found a red-headed sapsucker crumpled up on the walk below the front window. I hurried over to check it out and noticed faint eye flickering. I covered her with my hands, gently folding her splayed wings closer to her body. The oblivion of her stunned state was suddenly becoming a living nightmare from which she desperately wanted to wake. Her movements provided me with some relief, as well as concern. As much as I approach all living creatures as if I am St. Francis of Assisi, it is my experience that most critters perceive me as Frankenstein's Monster (or a near relative).

Be that as it may, I’d made the bird a little more comfortable, so I backed off a smidge and assured my feathered friend in soothing tones that she would be fine. She continued to blink and shake away the cartoon stars circling her head and, after a few more heartbeats, decided there were better places to recover from her adventure than there at Ogre-Central, so she hopped up and took flight.

In truth, so did I. Well, I didn’t actually take flight, but my heart was glad to see her up and about. Sapsuckers are related to woodpeckers and spend a lot of time banging their heads against trees, so perhaps they are more resistant to concussions than sparrows, Steller jays, and thrushes that flit about hither, thither, and yon.

It is perhaps coincidental that January 19 is Tenderness Towards Existence Day, so while this incident made me somewhat (ironically) an early-bird, it also served as a not-so-incidental reminder that we are connected with nature. People sometimes talk about getting “back to nature,” as if cities and villages, highways and byways, and all the varied things we do are somehow unnatural, but they aren’t. 

Ants build underground dwellings; bats hang out in caves; beavers build dams and homes, and birds their nests. What we do is just as natural.

I have to admit I don’t think of sitting under a tree out in the middle of nowhere as getting “back” to nature, but it is a great way to find a quiet space away from the insane side of our more destructive natures.

Being Tender Towards Existence is an opportunity to pause and reflect on our lives. Empathy and compassion are hallmarks of humanity – our human nature. As much as we may point out our propensity to wage war and exploit our environment, the fact that we know we do so is a sign we know we don’t have to. Beasts have no choice but to follow their nature. 

The lion with a belly full of wildebeest doesn’t stop chasing another wildebeest because it has suddenly discovered compassion, but because it is full. We may want to do something that is harmful to self, others, or the planet, but we can choose not to. Maybe not forever, but at the moment. Yes, I can kill the messenger (we may say to ourselves in a heated moment), but I won’t – today. That’s a choice. That’s a choice we can make. 

Taking a day to be tender toward existence is a good place to start. If we do it several days in a row, it could become a habit, and that would be ever so sweet here in this, our (tender) valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of newly released: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)