Unseen barriers

My office has a plate glass window extending from floor to ceiling. It faces north, and directly across is a section of undeveloped land, a wooded area that gives one the impression of being in the country, when in fact we are situated in a busy suburban community just a short distance from Interstate 40. The window has been treated to reduce glare, but it is still quite clear. This morning I was interrupted at my desk by a loud bumping against the glass. A large black bird -- a crow or raven I think -- crashed into the window again and again, flapping its wings, and finally pecking hard on it to gain to try gain entrance. Evidently it did not see the glass barrier.

It's not the first time this has happened, but each time it gets my attention! I hope the bird didn't hurt itself, but it can't feel good to hit the glass with such force.

It makes me think of the times in my own life when I've hit unexpected barriers. Just flying along, minding my own business, then -- boom! Out of the blue comes an expense, an accident, a heartache. Today the bird at my window was furious at the glass, pecking at it with a vengeance. I couldn't blame it. I've felt that way a few times myself. Again this spring we have seen many families dislodged because of flooding and tornadoes, and it's always impressive and humbling to me to hear interviews of the victims who are simply grateful to be alive, grateful for the help of neighbors, despite the circumstances of loss. Frequently the people express thanks to God. To me this is a powerful witness of hope, courage and faith.