Come and Drink

As I sit here, I can hear the chirping, flapping and fluttering of ten, little puffballs coming from my kitchen.

Finally, after years of waiting, our backyard is ready for Spring chicks. And, oh, what sweet timing--especially in this quarantine.  We have spent countless hours staring at these entertaining little creatures.  And they have become dear members of the family, even as their irresistible fuzziness has transformed into adolescent, half-feathered awkwardness.

But chickens are like any other pet in the sense that they require care and maintenance.  I may or may not have spent a couple late nights, nursing some sick bird-babies back to health.

In one such instance, our tiniest member of the foul-family--not much more than a gray cotton-ball-- was showing signs of dehydration.  As I noticed her symptoms, I led her to the water, dipping her beak in to show her where to find relief.  She resisted.

I took a water dropper and attempted to quench her thirst more directly... No success.

This little chick needed water but she repeatedly refused my resource.  She had all she needed to recover, but for some stubborn reason, she wouldn't drink!

The next day, my husband came home from Grange Co-op with a new water dispenser for the babes.  Within seconds, Petunia (yes, my children named these sweeties) started gulping up the water.

As I stood there, staring at her newfound refreshment, I couldn't help but smile.  Like, seriously, never thought I'd have that much joy over an ounce of life finding help and healing...
Yes, I thought, this is what I've been trying to lead you to!  This is what I've been trying to give to you, Silly Girl.

And in my moment of delight, the words of Revelation 22 struck me:
Come... Drink. 

"And the Spirit and the Bride say, 'Come'.  And let the one who hears say, 'Come'. And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price." (vs 17)

You may find my hovering, new-mama concern over these birds amusing, but I couldn't help but think how much more confounding it is that the Creator of the universe cares about my thirst, as well.

He has the resource I need.  Grace.  Rest.  Strength.  But I resist.  I search elsewhere.  I stubbornly suffer.

Yet He calls... Come, drink.  
He cares... Come, drink.
He persists... Come, drink.
And, finally, when I partake... He smiles.  

Even as I delighted over my Little Petunia finding refreshment--partaking in the resource she was designed for-- He, too, rejoices when I rest in him.