The other night after dinner, my children asked to go out into the front yard to “listen for Mr. Softee” (his arrival is a daily hope they hold on to, whether they’ve earned a treat that day or not). Standing on our front step, I heard strange, high-pitched squeaking coming from a holly bush outside our front door. The sound started and stopped repeatedly. I finally separated the branches of the bush and peeked in. There were four newborn birds cuddled together in a nest. They chirped for a few seconds at a time and then cuddled quietly.
I called my kids over to see this miracle of nature; it was clear these birds had just been born. They were so intrigued and, of course, crowded as close as they could to try to have a look. The birds got slightly flustered, and one of them leaned too far forward. It began to fall head first out of the nest. I quickly reached my hand in to catch the little baby bird and was able to gently place it back into the nest (all the while wondering if the mother bird was going to peck me to death for touching her baby … I survived without pecking). I was glad I was able to save the tiny bird.
Each night this week, I’ve been awake for several hours at a time, thinking and worrying about one of my children, who is struggling with some things I’m not exactly sure how to help with. When my get-up-and-workout alarm went off at 5:45 this morning, it was hard to keep my eyes open (they may have been partially swelled shut from a combination of crying and not getting enough sleep). For some reason, the first thing I thought of when I awoke was that baby bird I had reached out to save from falling into the prickly leaves and branches of the holly bush. I thought, “If only it was that easy to “save” my children …”
Suddenly, I realized that I CAN save them. Life is “prickly,” just like the holly bush, but my love for them is that “hand” that reached out to save.
Love, patience, guidance. These things, extended to our children regularly, can “save”
them. No, we can’t protect our kids from all the dangers that exist in this crazy world, but we can LOVE them. LISTEN to them. GUIDE them. LAUGH with them. REACH OUT our hands – and wide-open arms – to them. A child who knows (s)he is loved will be okay.
The World of Author/Mom Alicia Murphy! 
once again… so well said but don’t lose sleep over it all (of possible). They will be ok and if they do fall out of the nest, like the little birdies, they will pick themselves up, dust themselves off and figure out how to fly ….
How true. And beautiful.