Back to Basics April 27, 2026 Issue

What a little birdie taught me

The same power that had parted the Red Sea and underpinned Jesus’ healing works was right where my little friend was.

Helen Stevermer

Last spring, as I walked down a neighborhood street, a whirling puff of down landed in the middle of the street. A tiny dove, not yet fledged, had toppled out of its nest. I scooped it up and placed it on a nearby curb, hoping that the mother would appear, but was horrified when, instead, an adult blue jay landed next to the dove and violently pecked at it. After rushing over and shooing the jay away, I was sickened at the sight—the little bird had been mangled so badly that I wasn’t sure it was still alive.

After carefully gathering up the bird in my palm, I was dismayed at its apparent prospects for recovery and was met with a neighbor’s solemn advice to “let nature take its course.”

I knew that she was suggesting acceptance of the imminent death of the bird, and it was a wake-up call for me to adopt the opposite thought. I could insist that this little one’s God-given, spiritual nature would be manifested in healing.

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