Psalm 139:16; "and in Your book they were all written, the days fashioned for me. When as yet there were none of them."
My testimony is not of salvation, but God's faithfulness to me. My assurance is that I am His and He takes care of me.
Psalms 139 tells me that God, Himself, "fashioned my days." He knew I was being born into a violent home. My mother was eventually diagnosed schizophrenic and she had always been extremely violent verbally and physically.
My earliest memory of my mother was one of fear. I was about three years old crouched in the back of a dark closet, knowing I needed to stay quiet. I was afraid to be found by her. In that memory I was not alone. Someone was crouched with me, comforting me, and assuring me that I would be okay. It was Jesus.
At seven years old, I remember waking in the middle of the night to the noise of violence on the other side of my door. It was the most fear I ever remember feeling. Suddenly, at the foot of my bed, there sat Jesus, flesh and blood, not ghost like. I knew instantly who He was and felt safe.
Jesus laid His hand on me and told me that I never needed to be afraid. He promised me He would always be there to protect me, even when I could not see Him.
I never saw Jesus in flesh and blood again, but I felt His presence many times in many different circumstances from that time until now.
God knew the life I would face. He "fashioned my days". God knew I was going to need an experience to hold on to. The blessing of an unbelievably violent, fearful childhood was being allowed to know how very close Jesus always was to me.
Today there is no place I go, there is no difficulty I face, that Jesus is not there with me. I have nothing to fear. I have a book of promises of God's faithfulness to me.
It is never about whether God is in my midst, it is only about wheather I realize how extremely close He is.
God is not only in my midst, He is sovereign and promises "I will never leave you nor forsake you." (Hebrews 13:5 NKJ). God sits beside YOU, stands next to YOU, puts His arms around YOU to comfort and encourage and strengthen YOU. There will never be anything for you to fear. God has fashioned your days and intimately created you for those days. He will always be with you and nothing is to big for the Lord.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
FLORENCE'S STORY - Part 2
Florence's Story - part 2
My children were in school and they were being taught how to hate and to kill Americans. I didn't want them to grow up hating. I knew I had to get them out of the country to a better life. I prayed to God about this problem and asked for His help. A neighbor had arranged for passage for his family on a ship leaving Viet Nam. He had paid a deposit and then found a better passage. He agreed to sell me his deposit so that my children and I could leave. I still had diamonds that I could sell. The cost of the deposit was twenty gold leaves (each leaf worth about $900 US). I got exactly that amount when I sold my diamonds.
My oldest child, Henry, was ten, my daughter Marlene was eight, and my youngest son, Andy was three when we left Viet Nam. For the three day journey to Malaysia, 342 people were crammed into a boat about 60 feet long and 15 feet wide with a very small engine. There was no food, and very little water. A storm came up the night before the last day. The entire boatload of people were in terror crying and screaming. Many were sick and some died. When someone died they were thrown overboard. I prayed. I told God that if this was the way He would take me home, so be it. I slept, a very calm sleep. The next day someone sighted land, and jumped out and grabbed hold of the rope as they walked to shore. We had one tiny suitcase which contained the only possessions we had. I carried my toddler and told Henry to bring the suitcase. He tried to hold onto it, and I told him to let it go in the water. For some reason I thought it would float, and he could use it to help get to shore. We finally did get to land and I realized that my Bible was inside, wrapped in a blue towel! When we opened the suitcase, everything was completely waterlogged, except the Bible. While there was some water damage on the edges, the pages of the Bible were bone dry.
We were settled in a refugee camp in Malaysia which was opened in 1975 for boat people. Conditions were terrible, it was a very dangerous place especially for women. Maylaysian sholdiers beat and raped many of the women. To keep them away, I kept myself unkempt and smelly. Because of mosquitos, many were sick with malaria. An old schoolmate of mine who lived at the bottom of the hill in the camp brought me mosquito netting to protect my children. At Christmastime when I prayed that I would have something special to give my children, that same schoolmate brought me two apples and a handful of candy. I never saw him again.
It was 1978. Some of the refugees had been in the camp for a very long time. Red Cross workers interviewed us. They said that I would be sponsored by a country in the Western world, but I didn't know which one. I prayed that God would take me to live with His family. We were in the camp only eight and a half months when a Reformed Christian Church in Bowmanville, Ontario, Canada sponsored me and my children. They were good people, but very strict. They worked hard and expected everyone else to work hard too. They gave us a place to live and twenty dollars a week. That was all we had for food and utilities and everything else we needed. I knew no English and didn't know how I was going to take care of myself and my children. I felt isolated. But I remembered Isaiah 42:3, "A bruised reed He will not break, and a smoldering wick He will not snuff out. In faithfulness He will bring forth justice." I knew that if I trusted God, He would help me. I was encouraged by Romans 8:28: "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose."
When I had been in Bowmanville for about three months, I began to show the ladies of the church what I could sew. I began making clothing for them. Then I went to work for a dress shop at minimum wage. I prayed that I would be able to get a good education for my children; I asked God to enable me to earn enough money to do that. A men's clothing store sent the garments that needed alterations to the dress shop. When Jack, the owner of the store, saw the quality of the work I did, he gave me the space above his store for my own shop. I did all of his alterations as well as developing my own business. I worked sixteen hour days. I still do not understand how I could do what I did. We had arrived in 1978 with nothing and by 1984 I was able to buy a house. God is so good!
After I was safely in Canada, I tried to find out where my husband was. I learned that he had no interest in seeing me or our children. He was in Hong Kong, married with a new family. I felt that I was not to have a husband. I didn't want a husband! But God had other plans for me.
In the spring of 1985, Jean Marie Nadeau was working in Bowmanville, Kingston, 125 miles east was his home base, and he was getting ready to leave when he went by Jack's clothing store and saw a pair of pants he liked. He had shopped there often so they had his measurements. Jack's wife said that he could have the pants in ten minutes. He brought them up to my shop expecting the tailor to be a man. I told him they would be ready in ten minutes so he went out for coffee. When he came back he asked me what my husband did for work. I told him I didn't have a husband. He asked for my phone number, and I gave him the number at my shop. He came back a few days later and bought another pair of pants. He asked me out for coffee, but I didn't want to go. But he was very persistant. He sometimes bought pastries at a nearby bakery and brought them up to share with me. He bought five pair of pants and had them all altered. Finally my daughter and her friend, who were by now teenagers, urged me to go out with Jean Marie. I thought about it and the next time he asked me, I asked him, "If you die tonight, where are you going to go?" He replied that he was just asking me out for coffee, but then he said he believed in Jesus and would go to be with Him. I then asked him, "Do you drink?" He said "no", I asked, "Do you smoke?" He said no. I said that was hard to believe, and he said that if I wanted to find out more about him I would have to go out for coffee, so I said, "Okay, Sunday afternoon at two o'clock. And I'll bring my little boy with me." That was the beginning of our relationship.
I learned that Jean Marie had been born again in 1975 - the year my husband left me in Saigon. He had been divorced in 1968 because he had a drinking problem. But in 1975 he became clean and sober. In 1983 when he first moved to Bowmanville, he got down on his knees and told God that he would like to meet a woman who believed in God, didn't drink and didn't smoke. He added, "I'd like to meet an Oriental woman." By 1985 he had really given up looking for someone and had forgotten his plea to God. We were married on February 22, 1986 when I was 38 and Jean Marie was 45. As we said our vows he remembered that he had prayed to meet an Oriental woman who did not drink or smoke. He heard God say, "This is my gift to you my son!" and he started to cry.
My youngest soon Andy is a rebel and as he was growing up, he and Jean Marie often quarrelled. My older son and my daughter got along well with him. In 1990, my son Henry asked to borrow my car to go on a trip to the US for two weeks before his return to college in September. Because he is so dependable I didn't hesitate to say yes. He never returned. I tried to get the police to investigate, but because Henry was twenty-one and an adult, they said they could do nothing. I prayed for him all the time.
In 1987 we had sponsored my adopted mom and my brother to come to Canada to live. The whole time that Henry was missing, my mother was very sick in the hospital. One night Andy and Jean Marie were arguing. I couldn't take it anymore. I yelled at them, "Grandmother is in the hospital dying, and Henry is nowhere to be found. Why can't you guys get along?" My ear heard very clearly a voice saying: "Henry is not yours; he is mine!" I didn't understand then, but later I realized that God was telling me that Henry was with Him.
As my mother was close to death she was struggling and fearful. They called the pastor to the hospital. He read Matthew 11:28-30: "Come to me all you who are weary..." I translated for her from English to Chinese as he read and explained to her about Jesus. My mom stopped struggling and became peaceful. She told me, "Henry is okay." She died on March 17th and we buried her on Saturday, March 20th. The next night, Sunday, two constables knocked on the door and asked for Henry's dental records to identify a body that had been found in a national park in the U.S. We received Henry's remains the following Thursday and buried him next to his grandmother on March 27, 1991. On their tombstone we had engraved Job 1:21: "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised."
God is good! Praise His name!
My children were in school and they were being taught how to hate and to kill Americans. I didn't want them to grow up hating. I knew I had to get them out of the country to a better life. I prayed to God about this problem and asked for His help. A neighbor had arranged for passage for his family on a ship leaving Viet Nam. He had paid a deposit and then found a better passage. He agreed to sell me his deposit so that my children and I could leave. I still had diamonds that I could sell. The cost of the deposit was twenty gold leaves (each leaf worth about $900 US). I got exactly that amount when I sold my diamonds.
My oldest child, Henry, was ten, my daughter Marlene was eight, and my youngest son, Andy was three when we left Viet Nam. For the three day journey to Malaysia, 342 people were crammed into a boat about 60 feet long and 15 feet wide with a very small engine. There was no food, and very little water. A storm came up the night before the last day. The entire boatload of people were in terror crying and screaming. Many were sick and some died. When someone died they were thrown overboard. I prayed. I told God that if this was the way He would take me home, so be it. I slept, a very calm sleep. The next day someone sighted land, and jumped out and grabbed hold of the rope as they walked to shore. We had one tiny suitcase which contained the only possessions we had. I carried my toddler and told Henry to bring the suitcase. He tried to hold onto it, and I told him to let it go in the water. For some reason I thought it would float, and he could use it to help get to shore. We finally did get to land and I realized that my Bible was inside, wrapped in a blue towel! When we opened the suitcase, everything was completely waterlogged, except the Bible. While there was some water damage on the edges, the pages of the Bible were bone dry.
We were settled in a refugee camp in Malaysia which was opened in 1975 for boat people. Conditions were terrible, it was a very dangerous place especially for women. Maylaysian sholdiers beat and raped many of the women. To keep them away, I kept myself unkempt and smelly. Because of mosquitos, many were sick with malaria. An old schoolmate of mine who lived at the bottom of the hill in the camp brought me mosquito netting to protect my children. At Christmastime when I prayed that I would have something special to give my children, that same schoolmate brought me two apples and a handful of candy. I never saw him again.
It was 1978. Some of the refugees had been in the camp for a very long time. Red Cross workers interviewed us. They said that I would be sponsored by a country in the Western world, but I didn't know which one. I prayed that God would take me to live with His family. We were in the camp only eight and a half months when a Reformed Christian Church in Bowmanville, Ontario, Canada sponsored me and my children. They were good people, but very strict. They worked hard and expected everyone else to work hard too. They gave us a place to live and twenty dollars a week. That was all we had for food and utilities and everything else we needed. I knew no English and didn't know how I was going to take care of myself and my children. I felt isolated. But I remembered Isaiah 42:3, "A bruised reed He will not break, and a smoldering wick He will not snuff out. In faithfulness He will bring forth justice." I knew that if I trusted God, He would help me. I was encouraged by Romans 8:28: "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose."
When I had been in Bowmanville for about three months, I began to show the ladies of the church what I could sew. I began making clothing for them. Then I went to work for a dress shop at minimum wage. I prayed that I would be able to get a good education for my children; I asked God to enable me to earn enough money to do that. A men's clothing store sent the garments that needed alterations to the dress shop. When Jack, the owner of the store, saw the quality of the work I did, he gave me the space above his store for my own shop. I did all of his alterations as well as developing my own business. I worked sixteen hour days. I still do not understand how I could do what I did. We had arrived in 1978 with nothing and by 1984 I was able to buy a house. God is so good!
After I was safely in Canada, I tried to find out where my husband was. I learned that he had no interest in seeing me or our children. He was in Hong Kong, married with a new family. I felt that I was not to have a husband. I didn't want a husband! But God had other plans for me.
In the spring of 1985, Jean Marie Nadeau was working in Bowmanville, Kingston, 125 miles east was his home base, and he was getting ready to leave when he went by Jack's clothing store and saw a pair of pants he liked. He had shopped there often so they had his measurements. Jack's wife said that he could have the pants in ten minutes. He brought them up to my shop expecting the tailor to be a man. I told him they would be ready in ten minutes so he went out for coffee. When he came back he asked me what my husband did for work. I told him I didn't have a husband. He asked for my phone number, and I gave him the number at my shop. He came back a few days later and bought another pair of pants. He asked me out for coffee, but I didn't want to go. But he was very persistant. He sometimes bought pastries at a nearby bakery and brought them up to share with me. He bought five pair of pants and had them all altered. Finally my daughter and her friend, who were by now teenagers, urged me to go out with Jean Marie. I thought about it and the next time he asked me, I asked him, "If you die tonight, where are you going to go?" He replied that he was just asking me out for coffee, but then he said he believed in Jesus and would go to be with Him. I then asked him, "Do you drink?" He said "no", I asked, "Do you smoke?" He said no. I said that was hard to believe, and he said that if I wanted to find out more about him I would have to go out for coffee, so I said, "Okay, Sunday afternoon at two o'clock. And I'll bring my little boy with me." That was the beginning of our relationship.
I learned that Jean Marie had been born again in 1975 - the year my husband left me in Saigon. He had been divorced in 1968 because he had a drinking problem. But in 1975 he became clean and sober. In 1983 when he first moved to Bowmanville, he got down on his knees and told God that he would like to meet a woman who believed in God, didn't drink and didn't smoke. He added, "I'd like to meet an Oriental woman." By 1985 he had really given up looking for someone and had forgotten his plea to God. We were married on February 22, 1986 when I was 38 and Jean Marie was 45. As we said our vows he remembered that he had prayed to meet an Oriental woman who did not drink or smoke. He heard God say, "This is my gift to you my son!" and he started to cry.
My youngest soon Andy is a rebel and as he was growing up, he and Jean Marie often quarrelled. My older son and my daughter got along well with him. In 1990, my son Henry asked to borrow my car to go on a trip to the US for two weeks before his return to college in September. Because he is so dependable I didn't hesitate to say yes. He never returned. I tried to get the police to investigate, but because Henry was twenty-one and an adult, they said they could do nothing. I prayed for him all the time.
In 1987 we had sponsored my adopted mom and my brother to come to Canada to live. The whole time that Henry was missing, my mother was very sick in the hospital. One night Andy and Jean Marie were arguing. I couldn't take it anymore. I yelled at them, "Grandmother is in the hospital dying, and Henry is nowhere to be found. Why can't you guys get along?" My ear heard very clearly a voice saying: "Henry is not yours; he is mine!" I didn't understand then, but later I realized that God was telling me that Henry was with Him.
As my mother was close to death she was struggling and fearful. They called the pastor to the hospital. He read Matthew 11:28-30: "Come to me all you who are weary..." I translated for her from English to Chinese as he read and explained to her about Jesus. My mom stopped struggling and became peaceful. She told me, "Henry is okay." She died on March 17th and we buried her on Saturday, March 20th. The next night, Sunday, two constables knocked on the door and asked for Henry's dental records to identify a body that had been found in a national park in the U.S. We received Henry's remains the following Thursday and buried him next to his grandmother on March 27, 1991. On their tombstone we had engraved Job 1:21: "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised."
God is good! Praise His name!
Monday, April 19, 2010
FLORENCE'S STORY
God Is So Good - Part 1
I am Chinese, born to parents who had fled from China to Saigon in Viet Nam when the communists came into power in 1946.
My father was an opium addict. Addicts were not allowed to remain in Viet Nam and when he was deported my mother was desperate. She had three children and did not know what to do without a husband. I was just a baby.
Girls and women were treated as without value in the Chinese culture at that time. If a woman did not bear children so that her husband's line could continue, he was allowed to divorce her. My mother found a woman who had been married seven years and had no children. She sold me to that woman for $200 so that she would have money to take her other children to the border to join my father.
As a little girl I felt that my adoptive father loved me. Ironically, when I was about four years old, my mother became pregnant. Unfortunately, children could not save her marriage. My father fell in love with another woman and left my adoptive mother, my baby brother and me. My mother was bitter. She seemed to blame me, and took her rage out on me. She told me that I was "bad, bad, bad!" I believed that I was worthless.
I was always looking for love. I especially missed my father's love. When I was five I started going to school. Each day, on my way to school, I passed a Christian church. I was learning to read. On a sign outside the church was John 3:16: "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." God loved everybody! God loved me! I didn't know what that really meant at the time, but it was my first encounter with God.
My family, as most of the Chinese people I knew, were not Christian. They were ancestor worshipers. In high school I had a classmate who was Catholic, and who talked to me about Christ, but I wouldn't listen to her.
After high school I attended a special school where I learned sewing and tailoring. I was always looking for love and security. When I was nineteen I married a man twenty years older than I was. He was very wealthy and powerful in Saigon. He owned a chicken farm and a factory which made electrical wire. He didn't have much education because his father died when he was only ten and as the oldest boy, he had to work to help support his family. My husband was very smart, and some of his dealings were probably a little shady. I had no money worries and didn't know anything about handling money. When he had business dinners or parties, I had to go with him and look pretty and be friendly to his associates. I would smile and sometimes when we got home, he would think I was too friendly with some man, and was trying to get him to my bed. He would beat me.
We had two children and I was expecting our third, when two months before the fall of South Vietnam to the communists, my husband told me he was going to leave Viet Nam because he was worried about losing all his assets there. He would set up a business and establish a home and then send for us. I believed him, but never heard from him again.
When the communists took over they took everything. My husband had left a bank account and four vehicles as well as his businesses, but the government confiscated it all. They gave each family about $200 of their money. It was rather like getting 200 pesos for $1,000 USD. The government said that when that money was gone, they would give us more, but they never did.
Food was scarce. My mother and brother lived with us. I knew nothing about taking care of myself or supporting myself and my family. I sold my jewelry and almost all the personal property just to help us survive. I was very depressed, I even thought about committing suicide. I had a good friend who talked with me about Christ and urged me to go to church with her. I refused many times, but finally agreed to go. At the service they performed a skit about the prodigal son. God opened my eyes and let me know that He loved me. I was sobbing the entire time. My friend gave me a Bible and I read it all the way from Genesis to Revelation. For about a month my friend worked with me and answered my questions. Alone one night I cried out, "Christ, if you are real, show yourself to me!" First I saw His eyes looking into my soul and He said, "I understand you; I truly understand you." No one had ever understood me before. For the first time I felt valued. He showed me His hands with the nail marks.
My friend said that I should study with her pastor who could help me to learn and understand more. So for ten weeks he worked with me every Wednesday and Friday, answering all my questions. He told me that Christ was with us all the time. I had only to ask and He would show me His will for me. I still did not understand how He could have died for me - nobody would die for ME!
I am Chinese, born to parents who had fled from China to Saigon in Viet Nam when the communists came into power in 1946.
My father was an opium addict. Addicts were not allowed to remain in Viet Nam and when he was deported my mother was desperate. She had three children and did not know what to do without a husband. I was just a baby.
Girls and women were treated as without value in the Chinese culture at that time. If a woman did not bear children so that her husband's line could continue, he was allowed to divorce her. My mother found a woman who had been married seven years and had no children. She sold me to that woman for $200 so that she would have money to take her other children to the border to join my father.
As a little girl I felt that my adoptive father loved me. Ironically, when I was about four years old, my mother became pregnant. Unfortunately, children could not save her marriage. My father fell in love with another woman and left my adoptive mother, my baby brother and me. My mother was bitter. She seemed to blame me, and took her rage out on me. She told me that I was "bad, bad, bad!" I believed that I was worthless.
I was always looking for love. I especially missed my father's love. When I was five I started going to school. Each day, on my way to school, I passed a Christian church. I was learning to read. On a sign outside the church was John 3:16: "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." God loved everybody! God loved me! I didn't know what that really meant at the time, but it was my first encounter with God.
My family, as most of the Chinese people I knew, were not Christian. They were ancestor worshipers. In high school I had a classmate who was Catholic, and who talked to me about Christ, but I wouldn't listen to her.
After high school I attended a special school where I learned sewing and tailoring. I was always looking for love and security. When I was nineteen I married a man twenty years older than I was. He was very wealthy and powerful in Saigon. He owned a chicken farm and a factory which made electrical wire. He didn't have much education because his father died when he was only ten and as the oldest boy, he had to work to help support his family. My husband was very smart, and some of his dealings were probably a little shady. I had no money worries and didn't know anything about handling money. When he had business dinners or parties, I had to go with him and look pretty and be friendly to his associates. I would smile and sometimes when we got home, he would think I was too friendly with some man, and was trying to get him to my bed. He would beat me.
We had two children and I was expecting our third, when two months before the fall of South Vietnam to the communists, my husband told me he was going to leave Viet Nam because he was worried about losing all his assets there. He would set up a business and establish a home and then send for us. I believed him, but never heard from him again.
When the communists took over they took everything. My husband had left a bank account and four vehicles as well as his businesses, but the government confiscated it all. They gave each family about $200 of their money. It was rather like getting 200 pesos for $1,000 USD. The government said that when that money was gone, they would give us more, but they never did.
Food was scarce. My mother and brother lived with us. I knew nothing about taking care of myself or supporting myself and my family. I sold my jewelry and almost all the personal property just to help us survive. I was very depressed, I even thought about committing suicide. I had a good friend who talked with me about Christ and urged me to go to church with her. I refused many times, but finally agreed to go. At the service they performed a skit about the prodigal son. God opened my eyes and let me know that He loved me. I was sobbing the entire time. My friend gave me a Bible and I read it all the way from Genesis to Revelation. For about a month my friend worked with me and answered my questions. Alone one night I cried out, "Christ, if you are real, show yourself to me!" First I saw His eyes looking into my soul and He said, "I understand you; I truly understand you." No one had ever understood me before. For the first time I felt valued. He showed me His hands with the nail marks.
My friend said that I should study with her pastor who could help me to learn and understand more. So for ten weeks he worked with me every Wednesday and Friday, answering all my questions. He told me that Christ was with us all the time. I had only to ask and He would show me His will for me. I still did not understand how He could have died for me - nobody would die for ME!
Sunday, April 4, 2010
The Eagle Story
Remembered by Bobby McLeod; as told to her at a Canadian Baptist Women's Conference, by a missionary.
Eagles mate for life. They are found nearly everywhere in the world.
They build their nest together using the most prickly of branches and twigs and the nest which is deep, is usually a yard (or metre) wide with a broad rim around it. When completed the female pulls off all her down and lines the nest with it, making it a gentle cradle for her eggs. Both of the parents attend the eggs and after a natural time the eggs hatch into the downy nest.
Then the work really begins as now they have not only themselves to feed but the voracious chicks which are never full. The chicks grow rapidly.
The time comes when the nest is nearly too full of the chicks and they begin to hop onto the ledge and walk around. Soon they are all walking on the ledge and the time is drawing near for them to learn to fly. The mama eagle goes into the nest and removes any of the remaining down and the cozy home disappears, to be replaced by the prickly sticks.
Then the parents begin to push the chicks off the ledge. At first, the chicks just tumble down but one of the parents fly under and catch the small bird on their wings and return it to the ledge. Over and over again this happens; push off, fall, catch, bring back. They do it until the babies learn to fly and land on the rim of the nest. However, the job is not over for the parents, they must continue to feed the young birds and at the same time teach them to hunt. It takes a long summer before the young birds finally fly off and find an area of their own.
By this time, both adults are worn out. Their tail feathers are tattered, they are missing some of their pin feathers, and they can no longer soar like before. Their beaks are worn down and they have little or no flesh on their bodies but their parenting job is over for this season.
At this point, each of them goes to find a crevice in the hill and they back into it and lay down to wait.
Bit by bit the beak, the feathers, the down grow back and they can again fly and hunt, if that is the season of their life - ready to meet up and do it all again next spring.
Sometimes, there will be no 'new' spring but rather an aging. A time to just be until their life is over.
This should not be considered a sadness but rather a completion.
There are several points to be learned from this story of reality - and even this story has the Creator God in it. The eagles do not know how to praise God as we do, however they never falter in their God given life to complete what they were put on earth to do.
So it should be with us.
Eagles mate for life. They are found nearly everywhere in the world.
They build their nest together using the most prickly of branches and twigs and the nest which is deep, is usually a yard (or metre) wide with a broad rim around it. When completed the female pulls off all her down and lines the nest with it, making it a gentle cradle for her eggs. Both of the parents attend the eggs and after a natural time the eggs hatch into the downy nest.
Then the work really begins as now they have not only themselves to feed but the voracious chicks which are never full. The chicks grow rapidly.
The time comes when the nest is nearly too full of the chicks and they begin to hop onto the ledge and walk around. Soon they are all walking on the ledge and the time is drawing near for them to learn to fly. The mama eagle goes into the nest and removes any of the remaining down and the cozy home disappears, to be replaced by the prickly sticks.
Then the parents begin to push the chicks off the ledge. At first, the chicks just tumble down but one of the parents fly under and catch the small bird on their wings and return it to the ledge. Over and over again this happens; push off, fall, catch, bring back. They do it until the babies learn to fly and land on the rim of the nest. However, the job is not over for the parents, they must continue to feed the young birds and at the same time teach them to hunt. It takes a long summer before the young birds finally fly off and find an area of their own.
By this time, both adults are worn out. Their tail feathers are tattered, they are missing some of their pin feathers, and they can no longer soar like before. Their beaks are worn down and they have little or no flesh on their bodies but their parenting job is over for this season.
At this point, each of them goes to find a crevice in the hill and they back into it and lay down to wait.
Bit by bit the beak, the feathers, the down grow back and they can again fly and hunt, if that is the season of their life - ready to meet up and do it all again next spring.
Sometimes, there will be no 'new' spring but rather an aging. A time to just be until their life is over.
This should not be considered a sadness but rather a completion.
There are several points to be learned from this story of reality - and even this story has the Creator God in it. The eagles do not know how to praise God as we do, however they never falter in their God given life to complete what they were put on earth to do.
So it should be with us.
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