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Hummingbird Life Hack

Calliope (possibly?) hummingbird hovering beside our Texas Red Yucca (as identified by a reader — thank you!)

Near the bench on our back deck where I watch the sun rise, a stalky plant with bell-shaped pink flowers attracts a new hummingbird every morning.  Today’s hummingbird zoomed right to work, plunging its long, curved beak into the floral nectary.  After a second of super-efficient slurping, he flitted to the next blossom and checked it for nectar.  No nectar?  No problem.  Just zip over to the next blossom. 

I’ve been watching these guys for a few weeks now, and I have yet to see one hummingbird paralyzed with self-doubt about what to do next or beating himself up for stopping at a flower that was empty.  He just does the next right thing, which for him is to check out a different flower.  He knows his super-speedy metabolism is going to burn through his energy stores in half an hour or less, so there’s no time to dwell on past mistakes.  If he had a bumper sticker, it would read, “I’d Rather Be Flying.”

Oh, little hummingbird, how wise you are!  Teach me your ways because I have a lot to learn in this department.  Last week at my daughter’s graduation I had a brief conversation—scarcely longer than it takes a hummingbird to clean out a nectary—with someone I respect, where I managed to say something cosmically stupid.  It took two days for me to let go of the embarrassment.  Instead of shaking it off and moving on, I rehashed the event in the unforgiving echo chamber of my mind.

That’s why I love the Bible accounts of Peter.  He had a habit of saying stupid thing—and Jesus loved him, giving him second and third chances.  Just hours after declaring he would never desert Jesus, Peter swore up and down he didn’t even know the man.  After his third denial when Jesus looked at him, we are told that Peter went out and wept bitterly.  Do you think he might have spent the next two days rehashing events and kicking himself for his failure?

But Jesus didn’t leave him reeling in embarrassment for long.  Shortly after Jesus rose from the dead, he appeared to Peter on the beach and asked him one question three times: “Simon (Peter’s given name), do you love me?”  One question for each time Peter had lied about his relationship with his Savior.  Peter got a one-for-one do-over.  By the third time, Peter was hurt that Jesus had to ask, but Jesus didn’t back down; he was doing this for Peter’s catharsis.  He wanted Peter to fly light and free, unburdened by his mistakes.

The account in John 21 could have ended there with Peter’s renewal of his vows to the Lord, but immediately after his beautiful testimony, he said something stupid again.  Peter, my man!  We are kindred spirits.  And what was Jesus’ response?  He could’ve thrown up his hands in exasperation and shouted, “Oy vey!”  But he didn’t—Jesus actually made him a leader in the early church.  After Peter’s career of dedicated ministry (and a few more mortifying missteps), Peter was crucified for his rock-solid confession of his faith in Jesus.  

Hummingbirds are fascinating creatures.  I highly recommend watching this 5-minute PBS video on the structure and function of a hummingbird tongue.  (Spoilers: It’s forked and moves even faster than his wings.)  Amazing!  What else I find amazing is how much I’m like Peter, a disciple born with his foot in his mouth.  If there was hope for Peter, there is hope for me.  Thank You, God, for imperfect role models who perfectly model their need for You.  Keep me from camping out in my past failures and instead lead me to the next flower of forgiveness You’ve prepared for me.  Let me drink deeply and move on because I’d rather be flying.

Liz

Crazy Moon

I’ve seen way more sunsets than moonsets, but this morning God woke me up in time to see a setting supermoon.  Man, it was cool.  Massively big and the color of sherbet, this guy was losing no time clocking out of my side of the world.  I watched it drop: going, going, gone over the Estrella Mountains.  A little sliver hovered for a moment before there was no more moon to be seen.  I like to think some surfer in California was treated to the same visuals a few minutes later with their moon dissolving into the Pacific.

There was a sadness when it finally disappeared.  There was a sadness, and yet.  And yet a crazy notion that the moon would shoot back up over the horizon with a showman’s “Ta-da!”  Like Neo in the Matrix jump program, it would drop through the horizon and BOING back up before landing back on the earth with a satisfying smack.  Why would this crazy thought enter my mind?

Maybe because it’s Holy Week.  Maybe because it’s the week where we remember that crazy comes true, that the God who created the moon and set supermoons in motion has power over everything, including death.

The cycle of birth, life, and death seems as immutable as the moon’s journey around planet earth and planet earth’s journey around the sun.  It seemed like a sure thing to the disciples even though Jesus had told them he would come back.  After Good Friday, they locked themselves in a room, windows closed, and I imagine the air was thick with the stench of nervous sweat.  They had witnessed their teacher being tortured to death, placed in a tomb, wrapped up in bandages with the spices of the deceased pressed into his flesh.  There’s no coming back from that.  There’s no upward trajectory, only decay and eventual worm food.

And yet.  And yet Christ appeared to the disciples in that stinky hideaway.  The scriptures don’t record a “Ta-da!” but I like to think that’s what he said. Can you imagine their faces when he asked for a piece of broiled fish and then ate it?  He who was supposed to be worm food was eating fish! 

So I guess that’s the reason I expect a crazy moon to come back.  I have seen miracles, and now I expect to see them all the time.