“Relax, already,” I want to tell her. (I do talk to her sometimes.)
The cart stands between her nest and the garden, which means that multiple times every day, day after day, I approach the cart from the far side and make a deposit of green and brown. Every single time, Mama R gives a hefty squawk and flies to the nearby wood pile or the maple tree to wait for the all clear signal which she gives herself.
but she always squawks and flies.
I’ve attempted to sneak up from a different angle so she can’t see me coming/so she can see me coming. She squawks and flies.
I’ve moved toward her humming happily or tip-toeing quietly without eye contact.
She squawks and flies.
What I’d really like to do is sit her down and explain in Robinese - “It’s not about you, sweetie. I’m the Gardener, and I’ve got this project going over here, and it involves weeds and dirt and a bucket and a cart. But not you. Just be still and watch the pattern here.”
I'm quite certain God is saying this exact thing to me sometimes, and I'm learning to listen for His voice.
I'm doing something over here, and
it might not be about you.
Just be still and watch the pattern.
Just be still
that I am God.
Just be still.