W. Howard Coop, 32°
111 Dogwood Drive, Lancaster, Kentucky 40444-1034
hkcoop@aol.com

A lesson from nature provides comfort in times of grief.

As they always do, the cold, gray days of winter gave way to warm and sunny days of spring. The birds returned from their winter home in the south. One beautiful morning the whole neighborhood was alive with the music of hundreds of songbirds.

A pair of robins appeared on the lawn. Chirping merrily, they hopped among the branches of a dogwood. After flitting about the tree for a while and inspecting various locations among its branches, the pair, apparently happy with what they found, selected a place for their nest.

At once, the robins began the arduous task of nest building. They scoured the neighborhood for small twigs, bits of grass, and other suitable material. Bringing the material a piece at a time to the dogwood, they quickly fashioned a nest at a fork in its branches.

In due time, the nest was finished, and over the next few days, the mother-to-be robin laid a clutch of blue eggs. When the appropriate number of days passed, the eggs hatched, and the nest was filled with baby robins. All day long, the parents, aware of the need of the hungry chicks in the nest, were busy bringing food to their brood.

One afternoon, when the baby robins were just a few days old, clouds, dark and foreboding, began to gather in the west. In a short time, it was obvious that a storm was on its way. Black clouds rolled across the sky. Bright lightening flashed and loud thunder crashed. Strong winds shook the little dogwood mercilessly, and rain poured down in torrents. When the storm was over, the baby robins, cold and dead, lay on the ground under the dogwood.

For two or three days, the parent robins appeared to be in mourning. Their cheerful song disappeared. At one time, one or both of them were in the branches of the dogwood near the nest, but more often, they were on the ground keeping vigil near their dead babies. Then, about the third day, the robins changed their pattern of behavior. They began to sing more cheerfully, and they started the arduous task of rebuilding the nest in preparation for a second clutch of eggs.

"Behold the fowls of the air." (Matthew 6:26, NIV). There is a lesson to be learned from these feathered friends of the wild. Trouble may be avoided for a while, but sooner or later, in one form or another, it comes to everyone. Ultimately, no one can escape misfortune. Dark days of the soul are a harsh reality, for every member of the human race is "born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward"(Job 5:7). When it comes, trouble must be dealt with, and grieving is part of the process with which it is dealt. But grief is not the end. After grieving, one must pick up the pieces that remain and go on with life. As the pieces are picked up, there can be full assurance that the Grand Master of the Universe, Who feeds the birds and cares for them, will meet the needs of all who are the handiwork of His creation.

W. Howard Coop is a retired United Methodist Minister and has been a Mason since 1952. He is a Past Master of Lancaster Lodge No. 104, currently serving as Chaplain and member of W. R. Selby, Sr., Chapter 4, Danville, Kentucky, and the Scottish Rite Bodies of Louisville, Kentucky.