This was just too CRAZY not to Blog about!

This morning I returned home from a run and I access my bedroom through the backyard of the house. Right as I opened my door, my attentions were diverted towards the patio area where I heard a loud crash. At first, I assumed it was the gardener- but when it happened again, I decided to pay closer attention and witnessed a large black crow standing on the patio furniture inside the partially enclosed patio (two walls are glass). He was facing the glass wall and cawing. And then I noticed about 3 more crows cawing back from the surrounding trees and rooftop.

The crow jumped off the furniture perch and SMACK-- cracked his head right into the glass crashing to the floor. There was a flurry of wings feathers and when the dust settled I realized there were two. The other crow was also inside the patio pecking at the base of the glass wall.

I walked over to get a closer look- assuming they were fighting over food of some sort and when they both saw me they took off in full flight and CRACK! Right against the glass they both flew and dropped to the ground.

I finally understood what was going on- they were confused and trapped.

I hoped my presence would freak them out enough to find a quick exit, but instead- CRACK, SMACK, DROP - into the glass they both went over & over.

One of them shoved his body into a corner of the glass wall and I quickly corralled him towards the exit- but the other one - man he was stubborn!

I tried to coax him out to freedom like I did his partner but he cawed at me and mustered up enough lift to fly again- straight into the glass wall. He pretty much knocked the wind out of himself because after his final smack and fall he fluttered around and then stood there pressed up against the glass . . . stunned.

I approached him slowly. He noticed me hovering over him and swung his head around and looked me in the eye, and in that instant something happened between us. That black, scary adult bird who when roaming with his cronies is known as "murder" looked straight into my eyes, and submitted himself to me. He stopped flapping, stopped struggling, and I don't know what made me think this was okay but I reached down, gathered his wings towards his body and picked him up with both hands. He didn't struggle, he didn't try to bite me, and he didn't seem to think I was going to harm him. I walked him calmly to the exit, and threw him into the air and off he flew into the tree tops followed by a half a dozen of his cawing cronies.

I gathered my composure and replayed the event in my head. Did I? Nah . . . Did I just go and PICK UP a wild bird like that? I did, didn't I?

A tiny black feather was stuck to my pinkie. Proof! Huh. I guess I did.

I thought and thought about that encounter for the rest of the day. I called a few people to tell them my crazy tale, and then I realized something. There is that verse about the sparrow and how the Lord feeds them, and notices when they fall. I was suddenly overwhelmed by the reality of that. I mean, I know God is with me- everyday all the time- but with those birds? Those crazy, eerie, annoying carnivore scavengers? And He provided a way to aid in their survival today? Suddenly somehow, that made God SO MUCH BIGGER.

To me, the crazy scenario was such a real demonstration of God's love and mercy. The way that bird looked at me and submitted to trust me to deliver him to safety like that was incredible. As if he had no other choice but to smack and crack his skull a few more times and then succumb to exhaustion . . . how did he know that I wouldn't just do him in right there?

The thing is, he didn't!

I could dismiss the event as simply a bizzare occurance that makes an entertaining story . . . but then maybe I'll have missed the true point. It's so obvious. But I'll let you take my story and dissect it yourself. Because maybe there is a message in there for you too.

In the meantime, the next time you see a crow staring you down acting all tough - think of that vulnerable one stuck inside my back patio that I had to carry to freedom because he refused to be guided.

11:11

One of my favorite Rufus Wainwright songs is titled 11:11, and interestingly enough- after reading through Romans 11:11-24, I felt as if I have a new "hit track" in the "album" of Romans that's been on "repeat" in my own studies for the past several weeks.

Tonight when I got to a specific part of the passage, something hit me like a ton of bricks (I have made the paragraph divisions according to the way I broke it up while reading it):

17But if some of the branches were broken off, and you, although a wild olive shoot, were grafted in among the others and now share in the nourishing root of the olive tree, 18do not be arrogant toward the branches. If you are, remember it is not you who support the root, but the root that supports you.

19Then you will say, "Branches were broken off so that I might be grafted in." 20That is true. They were broken off because of their unbelief, but you stand fast through faith. So do not become proud, but stand in awe.

21For if God did not spare the natural branches, neither will he spare you. 22Note then the kindness and the severity of God: severity toward those who have fallen, but God's kindness to you, provided you continue in his kindness. Otherwise you too will be cut off.

23And even they, if they do not continue in their unbelief, will be grafted in, for God has the power to graft them in again. 24For if you were cut from what is by nature a wild olive tree, and grafted, contrary to nature, into a cultivated olive tree, how much more will these, the natural branches, be grafted back into their own olive tree.

What hit me was the mercy of God. His sovereign mercy. He full on GRAFTED me onto his
family tree and even cut some of his own branches off of it to make room for us because we
believe in Him- and sometimes I forget the power behind that. Sometimes I am tempted (like so many others) to question God's mercy and goodness when I see other branches who have "been cut off" or sacrificed, and I judge or even dare question what the heck God was thinking- and yet there I am a stranger, a total alien grafted in and taking up residency at God's very THRONE and still questioning his goodness?

Then verse 23 reminds us that even the ones who have turned away or fallen can still be re-grafted back onto the same tree and partake of the kingdom again. By God's power alone. I am so in awe of God when I stop asking Him so many questions about other things I can't understand- things I am not in charge of and not to question. My human side of me tries to
convince myself that I "need" some kind of control to feel comfortable enough to trust in Him fully. But truly, the only thing any of that gets me any closer to is frustration because then my trust in the Lord becomes totally conditional.

As wordy as this passage is, something about it became so clear to me tonight- and I even wondered if I was making up an explanation for myself because I suddenly got it and doubt my own "human" understandings sometimes. But I really don't think I am as dumb as I thought- just a bit pretentious probably. Standing grafted onto a cultivated olive tree like that in the Lord's presence somehow I guess made me think I had the right to question . . .

So I'll shut up now and stand in awe instead.

No One Mourns the Wicked

I've decided to post in order to get the remaining thoughts out of my head about the Musical WICKED that my sister and I saw at the Pantages this weekend. I won't bore you with the entire synopsis (you can read up on your own if you so desire via the links provided) but the delight about this show was its spectacular and weaved an incredible, charming, deep story.

The costumes, the dancers, the sets, the scene changes . . . they all moved in perfect sync. It was really a demonstration of HOW theatre should be DONE. I seriously felt like I was 10 years old sometimes and couldn't resist squealing over the pure fantasy presented right in front of my eyes. When I resisted the urge to to try to figure out how they were "doing that" backstage, and let myself just be wowed I ended up having the most fun.

Within the play, the characters had to present false personas in order to have their proper place in Oz. Whether they chose their mask or it was forced on them, they all ended up being a specific character they couldn't escape. The hero, the villain, the victim, the savior; because it was all a part of the story. It made it all work. Not only that- it made the story THE WIZARD OF OZ work too!

The reason I think I love theatre and films so much is the fact that while I can get lost in the "wow" factor of the spectacle, there is the message - the story, the deeper meanings, and even the parallels to real life. The funniest thing about WICKED is that when I was working at Universal in 2004 they were actually creating sets for the show on one of our sound stages and the mere title and witch icon painted on the side of the building completely turned me off. I assumed it would be a show glorifying magic or wickedness so I wasn't interested in the least in seeing it . . . and wouldn't you know- after finally seeing it 3 years later I came away touched by one of the main themes: first outward impressions aren't ever the entire truth of something.

An age-old lesson, but this time sung to tunes I have quickly come to adore like "I'm not that girl" and --

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