They'll Come North Again

It was so nice to see the robins on Tuesday. While I was on my way grocery shopping, they were all over the place in our neighborhood. For a minute I was confused, because our familiar red breasted friends had all been gone for a few weeks, I thought. You know how it is with robins. Around here, people tend to think of a sighting of one in early March as the first sign of spring after the long, hard winter. Then, usually at some point towards the middle to end of September, you realize that they have gone. They come and they go, telling us winter is gone and then in the fall, that winter is coming. Anyway, the ones that were outside a couple of days ago were obviously just a flock passing through from north of us somewhere.

I think the migration of birds is a wonderful thing. It is just another of the wonders of nature that the scientists are not really able to explain. As far as I’m concerned, it is just another proof of the answer to the second question of the children’s catechism. As I’ve said time and time again, I want our grandbaby to someday know these things. What else did God make? is the question asked after she learns that God made her. Well, of course, God made all things. I would like someone, if they could, to offer some other explanation for what happens every spring and fall with the robins, grackles, juncos, and a host of other birds. Who guides them? Where are their maps? Who tells them when it’s time to leave? Where are their calendars? By the way, have you ever watched the goings on at a robin’s nest? I had the privilege of having a ringside seat to just that, right next to my front porch last summer and that totally settled it for me. God was and is the Creator of all things. Someday all of my grandchildren will know it too. I’m sure of that. All they’ll need to do is watch the birds, right?

One more thing. This gives me a good excuse to post another favorite poem from Streams in the Desert. It’s a good one for anyone who happens to read this and is going through trials right now. Each year, we’ll let our robin friends remind us of these truths:

"Oh, every year hath its winter,
And every year hath its rain--
But a day is always coming
When the birds go north again.

"When new leaves swell in the forest,
And grass springs green on the plain,
And alders' veins turn crimson--
And the birds go north again.

"Oh, every heart hath its sorrow,
And every heart hath its pain--
But a day is always coming
When the birds go north again.

"'Tis the sweetest thing to remember,
If courage be on the wane,
When the cold, dark days are over--
Why, the birds go north again."