Dear St. Peter’s Family and Friends,

  Sitting in my garden one morning, enjoying the scent of jasmine and watching the keening hawks wheel overhead, I became aware of the commotion of a hummingbird weaving in an unusual pattern through and around the draping branches of the olive tree. As my eyes followed her movements, she disappeared into the sheltering leaves. Without moving, I studied the tree until, barely visible among the drab green, I discerned a tiny nest of lichens and spider silk woven across the intersection of some twiglets.

In the past three weeks, the hummingbird has engaged my attention, and that of my sisters, who receive regular updates. While still a bare inch in diameter, the nest acquired first one white egg, then two. These are tightly packed in the softest downiest feathers she can find, each one carried in her beak and carefully placed when she returns from one of her forays. The sides have become deeper, curving slightly inwards towards the top, strengthened with fine shavings of birch bark. Recently her behavior has altered. The hummingbird leaves her nest for shorter periods, preferencing the nearer rosemary, germander, and jasmine over more distant nectar sources.      

During last week’s windy weather, I was concerned about the incipient family, but of course, this mother knows what she is doing. When I braved the downpour to check, she was snuggled down, with her eyes closed, as her home swayed gently in the depths of the foliage.

While I see this tiny bird, barely three inches long, and her immaculate home as fragile, nothing could be further from the truth. She possesses skills and instincts we cannot even imagine. Building a shelter from foraged materials is a regular activity for students on field-skill courses, outward bound training, and summer camps; they often struggle to construct a workable shelter or find an optimum location. Yet, the creatures who live in my garden know exactly what to do. They are not concerned with style, form, or outdoing one another, but trust their instincts and simply get on with the task before them. They know the best location, the optimum materials, and how to weave or dig, and shape their nests and burrows without being taught. They manage it with their beaks and claws, teeth, and paws, sometimes alone, and sometimes in cooperation with another. They know what to do and trust it will work, then they simply get on with the task before them, raise their families without consulting a slew of experts, and send them forth into the world to repeat the cycle of life.

There is much we can learn from nature if we choose. As Lent begins, I hope you are able to trust yourself more, to slow down, approach decisions and relationships carefully, and with consideration. I encourage you to focus on doing things once, to the best of your ability, then letting go, moving on to the next thing without second-guessing what has passed. This Lent let us all strive to live in the moment, to take the time to savor the simplest of experiences, God’s gifts, which are freely available to us all and feed our minds and souls in ways beyond our understanding.

Lenten peace and blessings to you all.

Rev. Courtney+