Cardinal Sin

There is something deep inside of me that is nourished when I spend time in Refugio County. I'm pretty sure it is not the allergies, but I do believe it has to do with the smell of the grass, trees and ragweed, coupled with the sound of cardinals, flycatchers and red-shouldered hawks, the dry wind on a cloudy day whispering false notions about the possibility of rain.

My dad has a pond surrounded by larger trees that he calls "Kelley Park", and I often will lend a hand around his place repairing stuff, or mowing back brush. It was in the process of clearing and trimming shrubs around his lake that I made my mistake: I snipped off a low branch that was hiding a cardinal's nest. I knew my error when I heard the protests of the lone, naked nestling: this high-pitched squeak that usually means: "Hey mom, I'm hungry", but now probably cried out: "Warning!-- old, tall geek with pruning shears who's not looking carefully at what he's doing!!"
I felt terrible. I quickly put the little guy and the souvenir egg back in the nest and wedged it back into the bush from whence it was shorn, an apology offered in the sincerest modality. What else was there to do? RATS! I kayaked back that evening to see if the momma accepted my apology, but I had done a good job of putting the hidden nest back into the bush and didn't want to traumatize them any more by lumbering over to it again. So I left and hoped for the best.
I hate it when I do something trying to help a situation, get so engrossed in the process that I accidentally create a problem, and then have to surrender the outcome, because I don't get the final say.
Sometimes that's like my relationship with God; sometimes that's simply my entire life.
Lord Jesus, I am soo thankful that you are trustworthy, that you know my heart and have the power to make things right, even sins committed with the best of intentions.
Thank you for this summer and the many blessings you shower on us, especially old, tall geeks with pruning shears.