What's In A Name?

We’ve been thinking ahead to when the hospice/rescue is up and running, and decided that our little farm needs a name.  We’ve decided on Birdsong.  For us this was a natural conclusion based on the following beloved Emily Dickinson poem: 

“If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain:
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.”

This one of my all time favorite poems that sums up how I feel about this rescue/hospice adventure that Jeff & I are embracing.  I want to take in the needy animals, help heal them, and let them live out their lives with the love and comfort that had been denied to them.  I want to get educated in wildlife rehabilitation as well.  In my heart I feel it is my duty to ease the suffering of animals.  I believe that this is the purpose for my life. 

Through the years I’ve tried to go in different directions with my career, but nothing has kept me on a single path; the one constant in my life has been continually rescuing God’s little broken creatures which started when I was a child and could barely even say “animals.” “A-muls” I called them. 

I’ve always been captivated by the Earth’s biodiversity and creatures of the world and spent my formative years reading and viewing everything I could get my hands on that had anything to do with learning about animals.  I have my Mom and Dad to thank for instilling in me this profound love of the animal kingdom.  She and my father always read to me wonderful stories about animals to foster my interest.  Mom, an avid birdwatcher, created a yard that attracted birds.  She taught me about each variety.  Recently I found a log I kept when I was about 8 of the variety of birds who visited our feeder and the times they came.  We used to do things like that, and I loved it.  Birds were the first creatures that I had a hand in rescuing.  Mom was always helping birds with broken bones. 

My dad was a wellspring of knowledge about nature and all of its inhabitants, and I’m fortunate that he shared his repertoire with me.  My most treasured possession is a book Dad gave me in 1978 called “Lets Draw Animals.” 

The hours we spent with that book!  Drawing animals at the kitchen table and laughing together is something I will never forget.  In the process I learned about each animal.  I treasure those memories always.  I remember Dad telling me how he sang "Oh What A Beautiful Morning" on the radio when he was a child.  He recounted how silly he thought it was when he was told to point to his shoulder when he sang the part about "There's a bluebird on my shoulder."  It makes me smile to remember him telling the story as we drew.  The book is well-loved with the wear and tear that only the best loved books get—yellowing pages, crinkles in the cover taped together with Scotch tape, and pages with crayon smudges. 

Through things like this book and their example my parents taught me that all creatures deserve our consideration because like us, they have feelings and lives that are important to them.  Compassion and respect for all living things is a character trait they modeled for our family from the tiniest ant on the sidewalk to the larger deer and fox who share our environment.  Their adoration of all creatures great and small created the will inside me to want to do more, and lucky me to have a husband/best friend who shares this devotion.

So now I finally feel that I am finally on the path I am meant to be.  It is said that God gives every person a calling.  My calling came when I was a child, but I wandered off of my true path.  I earned a teaching degree and then a master’s degree and taught for about 8 years, but even though I truly loved that path I remained unfulfilled.  Something was missing.  I didn't know what to do with my career and felt like I had no direction and that I was flopping around like a bird with a broken wing.  I worried that my education was a waste, but now I see that I was meant to take the education path to allow me to embark on this epiphany’s journey.  Now, I can combine my experience and education to further my passion by setting up a nonprofit and trying my hand at humane education and curriculum writing.  Perhaps down the road Birdsong can be a place for teachers to bring their classes and learn about animals and why it is important to treat them with respect.  I could speak at school assemblies and do grant writing for rescue.  This will take time (perhaps years even), but every day is a step in that direction.  I don’t have all the details planned yet, but I know I’m moving in the right direction to make the dream a reality.  I'm on the right path now--I just took the scenic route to get here.  We just gotta move in:-)  Now that our shared dream is defined, I won't be like the bird with the broken wing.  I want to hold fast to this dream like the Langston Hughes poem says:

"Hold fast to dreams for when dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly

Hold fast to dreams for when dreams go

Life is a barren field frozen with snow."

In the midst of this winter snow, I’m looking forward to creating a home that will be home to the needy creatures and fueling the set-up with our passion for valuing all life.  Being raised to understand that every living thing has value, Birdsong evokes a congruent bible verse:

“… Not a sparrow can fall to the ground without the Father knowing it.”  Matthew 10:29

This furthers our name choice.  This verse expresses that even a tiny sparrow matters and is important to God.  It also conjures the tune of the popular hymn “His Eye Is On The Sparrow.”  The meaning is certainly appropriate for what we’re trying to do.  It was written in 1905 by Civilla Martin, who describes its inspiration:

Early in the spring of 1905, my hus­band and I were so­journ­ing in El­mi­ra, New York. We con­tract­ed a deep friend­ship for a cou­ple by the name of Mr. and Mrs. Doo­lit­tle—true saints of God. Mrs. Doo­lit­tle had been bed­rid­den for nigh twen­ty years. Her hus­band was an in­cur­a­ble crip­ple who had to pro­pel him­self to and from his bus­i­ness in a wheel chair. De­spite their af­flict­ions, they lived hap­py Christ­ian lives, bring­ing in­spir­a­tion and com­fort to all who knew them. One day while we were vi­sit­ing with the Doo­lit­tles, my hus­band com­ment­ed on their bright hope­ful­ness and asked them for the se­cret of it. Mrs. Doo­lit­tle’s re­ply was sim­ple: “His eye is on the spar­row, and I know He watch­es me.” The beau­ty of this sim­ple ex­press­ion of bound­less faith gripped the hearts and fired the imag­in­a­tion of Dr. Mar­tin and me. The hymn “His Eye Is on the Spar­row” was the out­come of that ex­per­i­ence.

These are the lyrics she wrote:

“Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,
Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heaven and home,
When Jesus is my portion? My constant friend is He:
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

Refrain

I sing because I’m happy,
I sing because I’m free,
For His eye is on the sparrow,
And I know He watches me.

“Let not your heart be troubled,” His tender word I hear,
And resting on His goodness, I lose my doubts and fears;
Though by the path He leadeth, but one step I may see;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

Refrain

Whenever I am tempted, whenever clouds arise,
When songs give place to sighing, when hope within me dies,
I draw the closer to Him, from care He sets me free;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

There is even a page in my drawing book about how to draw sparrows.  I remember drawing these with my father.  When he was dying of cancer I would spend time with him recalling the good memories we had together--this book being a central one of them.  We talked about all the animals we drew with that book.  During that time when he was on home hospice care I saw just how fragile human life is, and I would have done anything to spare him of what he endured due to the leukemia.  Heart-breaking suffering that I tear up over even now to think of it, but I wanted our last times together to be as happy as they could be, so talking about the happy things is what mattered most in the end.  Life is what you make it, and all life has value.  He spent a lot of time looking out of his bedroom window at the birds he fed for so many years, at the trees he planted to provide them shelter, and the sky where they flew free.  He taught me so much through that about the enduring spirit and what is truly important.  I remember thinking how I wanted to live on and honor him in some way.  I think that my little hospice farm is going to be the way that I honor my father whom I loved so much. 

I think Dad would be really proud of the work we're trying to do.  It all started with him when I was a kid, and I wish he was still here to see it.  I still miss him dearly. 

In honor of Birdsong, I want to share the doorbell I just bought:

It's solid brass with a verdigris patina.  The doorbell sound will be birds singing intead of a bell.  I think it's gonna be a cute nod to our farm's theme.