Keith and I teach a class called Preparation for Marriage and Parenting.  Below are a few comments we throw in during these classes that are not in the lesson book we compiled, but which probably ought to be.  For what they are worth…
 
            Headship is not about getting to do whatever you want to do.  It is about carefully considering the needs of the entire family and doing what is best for them, whether it is what you want to do or not.
            Any woman who has difficulties with subjection has difficulties with being a Christian.  Submission is what being a disciple of Christ is all about.
            A man who makes subjection difficult for his wife might as well get himself sized for a millstone.
            There are many different ways to handle problems in a marriage.  The first and most important thing you should do is make up your minds that you will make it through this.  Never keep a divorce lawyer on your speed dial.
            It doesn’t matter whether you understand women or not.  It doesn’t matter whether you understand men or not.  What matters is understanding that your spouse does not think like you do.
            If you ladies are going to use your hormones as an excuse for bad behavior, then you should allow your husband to use male hormones as an excuse for his.
            Marriage is a high maintenance relationship.  As soon as you start neglecting it, it will go downhill.
            Spouses who do not communicate well and on a regular basis will soon be total strangers.
            Letting her talk is useless if you don’t listen.
            Your children are not your own.  They are merely souls God has given into your care, and He expects them to be returned in good shape.
            You are teaching your children whether you intend to or not.  What textbook are you using?  Look in the mirror.
            Make no mistake about it—you are waging a war with your toddlers, which you should win before they reach school age.  Any time you “give in,” you have lost a battle and retaking that territory will take twice as long at twice the cost to your relationship with your child.
            Too many parents don’t train their children, their children train them.
            A father who won’t change dirty diapers probably won’t be much use to his children when the messes of life afflict them either.
            If you tell your child, “If you do that again, I am going to _________ you,” and then don’t ______them when they do it again, you have lied to your child.
            Don’t tell me that a child is too young to comprehend punishment before the age of 2.  My child is smarter than any puppy dog I ever saw.  So is yours.
            Raising kids is hard work.  Our society and its children are suffering from parents who were either too lazy or too selfish to do the job right.
 
            Gleaning in the field sometimes gives you choice produce that was simply overlooked.  Other times there is a reason it was left there.  So this morning choose from the list and take what is most helpful.
 
Except Jehovah build the house they labor in vain that build it…Lo, children are a heritage of Jehovah, and the fruit of the womb is his reward.  As arrows in the hand of a mighty man, so are the children of youth.  Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them; they shall not be put to shame when they speak with their enemies in the gate, Psalm 127:1, 3-5.
           
Dene Ward

When I was a child we did not have a lot.  We always had enough, and our home was comfortable and above all happy, but we learned early on that happiness was not a product of wealth.  We did not eat out except on very special occasions, maybe the whole family once every other year and my parents only on their anniversary.  We never had a kitchen cabinet full of junk food snacks.  We drank water between meals and simply waited for the dinner hour if we wanted more.  But none of us even came close to starving.
 
           So Christmas morning was not a feeding frenzy of ripping open package after package.  Instead, we did this.  We took turns opening gifts.  And if it was a gift from you, you would have been the one to hand it to the recipient.  Then we all waited as the gift was opened and properly admired and thank-yous offered.  Then it was someone else’s turn.  Once again we all waited and watched.  Then again.  And again.  Until the gifts were all opened.

            So what did that do?  For one thing it made the whole process last much longer.  By the time we finished, our neighbors were outside playing with the customary, “Is that all?” expressions on their faces, as something they had looked forward to so long had ended far too quickly.  Usually they had more than we did, but it took us twice as long to get our little bit unwrapped, so Christmas lasted much longer for us than for them.

            Second it took the focus off “me,” not only on that day but all through the year.  We learned to pay attention to the needs and desires of others.  We learned to listen to them instead of just preparing our own replies to what they were saying.  We learned to think creatively.  “Dad can’t hear well enough to hear the words to his favorite CD.  What can I do for him?”  Answer:  find the lyrics online, print them out and wrap them in an appropriate sized box.  You might not think it was a gift, but he did.

Which leads us to the most important benefit, it taught us to appreciate the effect of our giving on others. When the gift was opened, we sat, eagerly waiting, not another toy for ourselves, but for their reaction to our gift.  When we really hit the jackpot, when sometimes a tear or two fell at our thoughtfulness, it was the best feeling in the world.  It took away the “gimme,, gimme,” and taught us what the Lord said so long ago, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”

            That is what gift swapping should be about, not the grand free-for-all it has become.  We heard someone describe their annual gift opening frenzy , a five or ten minute process wherein no one ever knew what anyone else had gotten nor others’ reactions to the gifts they had given, ending it with, “But how do you stop them?”

            Well, for one thing, you don’t stand there passing them out one after the other after the other as fast as you can.  For another, you talk with your children from the time they can even begin to understand, about doing for others, about how good it feels to make them smile, to know you have given them something they really want, that really means something, even if it doesn’t cost an arm and a leg.  You teach them about “priceless” gifts.  Then you exert the parental control you ought to have and direct the process, reminding them when they are still young what the point is—giving, not getting.        

            Lucas said to me one time, “My favorite part of Christmas is seeing people’s reactions to the gifts I’ve chosen.”  That is what you are aiming at.  If we want to make generous Christians out of our children, it takes a little effort, but God expects us to turn them into servants who serve not spoiled ingrates who demand.  This is just one way to help that process along.
 
​​​​​​​A generous person will be enriched, ​​​​​​and the one who provides water for others will himself be satisfied, Prov 11:25.
Dene Ward

When I was very young we lived in Orlando, but for this story you must remove present day Orlando from your minds.  In 1960 Orlando was a one horse town no one had ever heard of.  “Where is that you’re from?”  people would always ask, and I even had to spell it for them.  There was little crime, certainly no gangs or wholesale violence.  Some people still left their doors unlocked, and I don’t remember ever locking the car.  It was too hot!  You left the windows down just so you could tolerate it when you got back in.  It was still the day when stores and restaurants advertised in a little sign on the door, “Air Conditioned,” with carefully drawn snow caps perched on each letter.
         
So you can more easily understand that when we went “downtown” to see the Christmas parade, because I could not see over the crowd my parents sent me to sit on the curb with several other children.  They could see me from several “rows” back throughout the whole parade, and trusted me to “meet them by the light pole” when it was over.
           
But when it was over and everyone stood and started milling around, the light pole disappeared.  I was four feet tall and all those big people were in the way.  After a couple of panicky moments my good sense kicked in.  We had parked on the north side of Highway 50 three or four blocks from the parade site.  It was a straight shot to the car.  So I set off walking, and in short order found the car and stood by it.

About fifteen minutes later my parents found me.  “I couldn’t see the pole,” I told them, “but I knew where the car was.”  Of course I had no idea how frantic they had been, but they were not angry, just glad I had found my way back to a place where they could find me as well, and managed to hide what must have been overwhelming relief. 

I have many friends who, though they have raised their children well, have since lost them to the world.  I know they beat themselves up regularly, wondering what they did wrong.  Maybe nothing--God did give us free will after all.  I can find many godly parents in the Bible who raised hellions, and many ungodly parents who somehow produced some of God’s most faithful people. 
If you find yourself in that position today, here is something to comfort your tortured soul—if you did your best, then you have given them what they need to find their way back.  They may be in a confusing place right now, a place where all they can see are hip pockets and belt buckles, and the light pole they need to see is hidden from them.  But if you gave them a straight course while they were still with you, then, when they finally give up trying to make sense of a complicated world on their own, they can follow that course back where it started and find their way to God again. 

What is the hardest part of all this?  The waiting.  In fact, you may not live to see their return, but now it’s time for you to have that faith you tried so hard to instill in them.  You showed them the path, and if they have the heart, they will find it.  There will still be a Father looking down the road, waiting to welcome them home, even if you are gone and cannot do it yourself.  Hang onto that hope, and don’t ever let it go.
 
I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants." And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.' But the father said to his servants, 'Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.' And they began to celebrate.  Luke 15:18-24.
 
Dene Ward

We had a long drive ahead of us that day, one on unfamiliar winding backroads, so we were both watching carefully for hairpin turns and highway numbers which seemed to rise up out of nowhere.  More than once we nearly missed a turn.

            At least the scenery was beautiful, hills carpeted in autumn colors, green valleys and lakes reflecting the clear blue skies, red barns, silver silos, white rail fencing snaking over the rolling pastures.  Then suddenly we passed an old homestead.  The barn had fallen in on itself, the fencing was obscured by weeds and grass.  Even the foundation lay in a heap of crumbled rubble—except for the red brick fireplace that stood straight and solid in the center of the home site.

            I couldn’t help but wonder how many fires had warmed the house when it stood, and how many generations had gathered around that hearth before the house was finally destroyed.  And wasn’t it intriguing that something big enough and strong enough to destroy a house would leave a fireplace completely unscathed?  No crumbling, no cracks, not even any smoke damage.

            Hearths have symbolized warmth, security and traditional family values for centuries.  Just as today our kitchens tend to be the center of the home, the hearth was that center in earlier times.  And just like that fireplace that stood alone after the destruction of the house, when our life takes a bad turn, the home and family you come from can be the reason you make it through those times.

            The values instilled by your parents can make you or break you.  Work ethic, determination, integrity, honesty, and above all, service to God and others—these are the things that will help you stand when others fall.  And these are the things your children need to see and hear in you for exactly the same reasons.

            The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world, the old saying goes, but it’s actually a pair of hands, maybe 3 or 4 pairs—parents and grandparents that mold young minds through teaching and especially example.  God meant for us to be their role models, not some famous athlete, singer, or actor, not some politician or businessman, not even some big name preacher.

            Long after you are gone, that fireplace will stand in your child’s heart.  No matter what comes his way, what you have taught him will see him through.  Be sure you have laid the bricks well.
 
Things that we have heard and known, that our fathers have told us. We will not hide them from their children, but tell to the coming generation the glorious deeds of the LORD, and his might, and the wonders that he has done…which he commanded our fathers to teach to their children, that the next generation might know them, the children yet unborn, and arise and tell them to their children, so that they should set their hope in God and not forget the works of God, but keep his commandments; Ps 78:3-7.
 
Dene Ward

God makes it plain in the Old Testament exactly how He feels about human sacrifice, specifically sacrificing one’s children as a part of pagan idol worship.  It is “an abomination;” it “shall not be found among you;” it “defiles you;” it “pollutes the land;” it “did not even enter into [God’s] mind” to command such a thing” (Deut 12:31; 18:10; Ezek 20:31; Psa 106: 37,38; Jer 32:35).
 
           And I suppose most of us think we are past that—we would never participate in something so heinous; we would never be caught up in worshipping an idol to the point that our children no longer mattered to us.  Think again.

            How many people have sacrificed their children to their careers?  And don’t automatically jump to working mothers.  God holds fathers accountable as the spiritual leaders of their families, especially in raising their children (Eph 6:4).  Too many fathers delegate everything to the mother, expecting her to somehow communicate to his children that he loves them, even when he spends practically no time at all with them, when he regularly misses piano recitals, school programs, or ball games; when he has never drunk an imaginary cup of tea at a tea party; when he has never read a bedtime story; when he has never dried a tear or given a hug, changed a diaper or given a bath, helped with a science project or played catch.  Career-minded, status-conscious, money-grubbing parents need to give thought to what they are sacrificing.  When you chose to have children, you chose to sacrifice yourselves, not them.

            And maybe this is the place for the blood being shed in the name of my body, my rights, and my choice.  Abortion is nothing more than human sacrifice so I don’t have to bear the responsibility of my actions.  I, me, and mine are the biggest idols we have today, and precious souls are bearing the brunt of that pagan ritual to the idol of self.

            And we also have those who sacrifice their children on the altar of their own feelings and opinions.  The sermon hurt my feelings, the elders told me I had to change my lifestyle, this brother or that sister came and told me I needed to repent of my sins, so I won’t go back to that church ever again.  And guess what?  Your children miss growing up among godly people, attending Bible classes that would have helped you teach them about God, and at least hearing the gospel every Sunday, whether anything you did at home ever cemented it into their minds or not.  You may not have sacrificed them to Molech, the heathen god most often associated with child sacrifice, but you actually did worse—you sacrificed them to the maker of those “abominations”—Satan Himself.  He is the one who will swoop in and claim those young souls, who have now learned from you that God isn’t all that important after all.

            Child sacrifice is alive and well in the world today, and too many of us are guilty, too.
 
“Therefore say to the house of Israel, Thus says the Lord GOD: Will you defile yourselves after the manner of your fathers and go whoring after their detestable things? When you present your gifts and offer up your children in fire, you defile yourselves with all your idols to this day. And shall I be inquired of by you, O house of Israel? As I live, declares the Lord GOD, I will not be inquired of by you, Ezek 20:30-31.
 
Dene Ward
 

Entitlement—the belief that one is inherently deserving of privileges or special treatment.

    I wish I had a nickel for every conservative politician, even every Christian, I’ve heard complaining about people who have entitlement issues.  The ones who act like the world owes them a living; like they should never have to reap the consequences of their sown wild oats; who think that having money or, interestingly enough, NOT having money, makes them exempt from the laws of the land.  While I find myself agreeing with most of those opinions, I also see this:  every one of them, politician and Christian alike, has an entitlement issue of his own.

    First there is the husband who wants everything done in a certain way, even if it is a lot more work for his wife; who demands certain foods cooked a certain way and served with certain other foods or he refuses to eat it; who requires every item of clothing pressed, even if they are permanent press and no one else will know the difference; who wants his big boy toys because he’s “worked hard and earned it,” even if it means others in the family will do without.  After all, he is the head of the house.

    Then there is the wife who wants everything the neighbors have, even if the neighbor makes a lot more money; who thinks she must have plenty of time and money allotted for preening; who considers sacrificing for her family a kind of torture; who believes that life is for recreation and begrudges every minute she must spend caring for the children or keeping the house or cooking meals; who recites her list of woes to anyone who will listen every time she has the opportunity so she can be properly pitied and praised for dealing with them.  After all no one should have to go without a new pair of shoes for every outfit.

    And don’t forget the children these two raise:  selfish, materialistic whiners who are never satisfied; who think that their parents owe them every new electronic gizmo the world creates; and who never once utter the word, “Thank you,” much less actually treat their parents with enough respect and courtesy to even look up from their phones and carry on a civil conversation.  After all, they didn’t ask to be born so they deserve everything they want to make up for it.

    Do you think these attitudes hasn’t invaded the church?  Where do you think we get those members who refuse to do as they are asked for the sake of visitors from the community?  Why, no one can have my perfect parking place (under the shade tree) or my perfect seat (in the rear).  Why do you think we have people who treat their precious opinions like the first principles of Christianity—basic and undeniable, and shame on anyone who isn’t as enlightened as I am?  Where do they come from, the people who will raise an argument about the trivial just to show their smarts and regardless of who may need the larger point being made?  Or the ones who, when they suffer, raise their fists at God and complain, “I’ve served you all my life.  Why me?” as if they could have ever earned any blessing at all?

    And why do you think we have such a hard time overcoming a single besetting sin?  “That’s just the way I am,” we think, as if the Lord should count Himself blessed to have us and overlook it.

    Yes, we are all guilty.  And what does Jesus have to say about that when he hears us pontificating about “those people” with entitlement issues?
Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye, Matt 7:3-5.

    Be careful the next time you rant about entitlement.

Dene Ward

Blessed is everyone who fears the LORD, who walks in his ways! You shall eat the fruit of the labor of your hands; you shall be blessed, and it shall be well with you. Your wife will be like a fruitful vine within your house; your children will be like olive shoots around your table. Behold, thus shall the man be blessed who fears the LORD. The LORD bless you from Zion! May you see the prosperity of Jerusalem all the days of your life! May you see your children's children! Peace be upon Israel! Ps 128.

            Nearly every commentator believes the Psalms of Ascents (120-134) were psalms sung by families as they made their way up the hill (ascending) to Jerusalem to worship on the feast days, especially the agricultural feast days of Passover, Tabernacles, and Weeks.  As such you see in your mind’s eye the extended family of parents, children, grandparents, and perhaps maiden aunts or other singles stepping out to the tune of these psalms, year after year, a tradition kept by every generation.  This particular psalm is a picture of the life that family leads the rest of the year, another routine that some might even consider dull but which God calls blessed.

            The father works, but the implication is not one of a career-minded workaholic.  This man labors for his family, to provide those meals they meet around the table to eat together and the sacrifices they are able to make on their annual pilgrimages. 

            The mother is “a fruitful vine within the house.”  That does not mean she never steps outside the door—it means she, too, is family-oriented.  Like the ideal woman of Proverbs 31, caring for her family may force her to leave the home occasionally, but she is the direct opposite of that other woman in Proverbs:  She is loud and wayward; her feet do not stay at home; now in the street, now in the market, and at every corner she lies in wait, Prov 7:11-12.

            This blessed family meets at the table every evening and has their meal together.  And several times a year they make that journey to Jerusalem, to God’s Temple, to the assembled worship prescribed by the Law.  When I think about this family, I think of my childhood.  Every Sunday we had a routine.  We rose, ate breakfast together, and then dressed to go meet with the saints.  No one ever asked where we would be or what we would do on Sunday.  We all knew exactly where we would be and what we would be doing.

            When I raised my family, the same thing happened.  Maybe the routine was a little different, but it was a routine.  My boys never had to ask what or where.  They knew.

            And now I watch my son and his family doing the same thing.  It may be a different routine, but it leads them to the same place—a meeting with the people of God.

            A lot of people think that routine is useless, that since it is so much routine it no longer has any meaning.  But consider this for one minute.  What if we had to do this in secret?  What if the church had been bankrupted because of its beliefs, its leaders fined or even jailed, and our only recourse was to go “underground?”  This country is fast moving in that direction.  These things may not happen in our lifetimes, but our children or grandchildren will almost certainly face them.  I know God has a plan, but His plans have not always meant that none of His people suffered or even died.

            What you look at with disdain today may sometime in the future be a distant memory of how well we had it.  Of families that could meet every Sunday in a place they had pooled their resources to buy, with a sign on the side of the road that proclaimed who we are and what we were doing:  Christians meet here.

            Suddenly, the routine you consider boring and unmeaningful will be the thing you wish you had appreciated far more when you had it.  Think about that and appreciate it like you ought to today.

 

I was glad when they said to me, “Let us go to the house of the LORD!” Our feet have been standing within your gates, O Jerusalem! Jerusalem— built as a city that is bound firmly together, to which the tribes go up, the tribes of the LORD, as was decreed for Israel, to give thanks to the name of the LORD. There thrones for judgment were set, the thrones of the house of David. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem! “May they be secure who love you! Peace be within your walls and security within your towers!” For my brothers and companions' sake I will say, “Peace be within you!” For the sake of the house of the LORD our God, I will seek your good, Psalm 122

Keith had to have some fairly serious surgery last year and since he is 90% deaf, the doctor arranged for me to be in his hospital room as his caregiver 24/7.  He does read lips fairly well, but lip reading is not the perfect solution to the problem.  He must “fill in the blanks,” so to speak, as his mind tries to interpret the sounds his ears miss, which is most of them.  It takes a lot of concentration, and when he is tired or does not feel well, he simply cannot hear at all.  But over the years I have learned how to communicate in all the various ways, from hand signals to pantomime to pointing at people or things to carefully wording without overdoing the mouth movements or using too many words. 

            So for six days we were both away from home and wouldn’t you know it, it was the height of garden season.  When we came home I had to do it all because he couldn’t even lift more than 10 pounds for two months, let alone bend over to pick vegetables or drag hoses.  That first week was the worst.  I picked every morning, sprayed the whole garden twice, (we’re talking an 80 x 80 garden here), pulled cucumber vines covered with blight, chopped out and hauled away the old corn stalks, placed folded newspapers under 50 cantaloupes so they wouldn’t rot on the ground (a very thin-skinned variety), cleaned out weed-choked flower beds, put up both dill and red cinnamon pickles, and picked and tossed 8 five gallon buckets of squash and cucumbers that did not have the grace to stop growing while we were in the hospital!

            Of course we all know that is not going to happen.  The plants continue to grow, the blossoms continue to set, and the fruit grows far larger than you ever imagined it could.  The back field looked like a marching band had gone through throwing out big yellow saxophones as they passed.

            It works that way with children too.  I can think of dozens of things we planned to do with our boys when they were little—things we never got to.  Sometimes it was a case of no money, but sometimes we just let life get in the way.  I wrack my brain trying to remember if there was anything we planned that we actually accomplished at all!  But just like gardens, children keep on growing.  They don’t stop to wait until you have more time to spend with them, or more resources to spend on them.  They won’t wait till you get a bigger house or an easier job or a raise.  They won’t wait until your life is exactly like you want it.  If that’s what you are waiting for, it will never happen.  You have to set your own priorities and make it happen.

            Every summer I made my boys a chore list.  I am sure they remember it fondly!  No, probably not, but on that list was this:  “Play a game with mom.”  Guess which “chore” they never skipped?  Sometimes it was checkers, sometimes it was monopoly, sometimes it was even pinochle, a game they learned with some of their dad’s commentaries set up on the table to hide their hands because they were too small to hold all the cards at once.  Sometimes it was one of the board games I made to help them with their Bible knowledge.  And every day we had Bible study of some kind, whether just talking about things between the bean rows as we picked together or a formal sit down study. 

            These are just some ideas to help you along.  We have all heard the old poem “Children Don’t Wait.”  It’s true, and last summer I thought about that even more as I looked out over the overgrown garden.  Maybe my grandsons will reap a little from the repeat of a lesson that is never taught enough.

And he said unto them, Set your heart unto all the words which I testify unto you this day, which you shall command your children to observe to do, even all the words of this law. For it is no vain thing for you; because it is your life...Deut 32:46-47.

Dene Ward

            Now Deborah, a prophetess, the wife of Lappidoth, she judged Israel at that time, Judg 4:1.

            Do you know anything about Lappidoth?  I know he was Deborah’s husband and that is all.  He is mentioned nowhere else in the entire Bible.  Yet because of his amazing wife his name was written down for everyone to read for thousands of years.

            No, it was not because God ordained that a wife have no identity without her husband, as some feminists might try to argue. Have you ever googled your own name or simply looked it up in your city’s telephone directory?  Somewhere in the world there is someone else with the same name as you, first and last.  Imagine how many there are with just your first name.  I can find six Marys in the New Testament alone. 

            It was necessary to identify people in the scriptures by their parents or spouses or children in order to make it plain who was being talked about.  There was at least one other Deborah in the Bible, the nurse of Rebekah, in Gen 35:8.  I imagine there were many other little girls named Deborah throughout Israel, especially after the time of Judges 4.  Miriam, after all, is the Hebrew for the Aramaic Mary, of whom we have so many in the first century AD.  Surely the great woman judge was a worthy namesake too.

            So what is the big deal about Lappidoth?  Just this—he was mentioned because of his wife, and he is respected because of his wife.  Whom you marry can make or break you in your career, in your reputation in the community, and most important, as a servant of God.

            How many times have you heard it said, or even said yourself, “He would make a good (elder, preacher, Bible class teacher, deacon) if not for his wife?”  God made woman so man would not be alone and so he would have a suitable helper in life.  David says, “[Jehovah] is our help” in Psalm 33:20, using exactly the same Hebrew word describing God as the one God used of woman in Gen 2:15.  Part of the help God gives men is the women who stand beside them.  There is nothing demeaning about being a tool in the hand of the Lord.

            Maybe the problem is men who do not recognize their duty to spiritually lead the family, “nourishing and cherishing” their brides, as Christ did the church.  Keith is the one who taught me how to study.  “And created a monster,” he always adds.

            Inevitably though, the onus falls on women who will not be led, who will not grow, who use their freewill instead to rebel against God.

            Jesus told a parable in Luke 14 about people who would not follow Him.  The point of the parable was the lame excuses people will make, but I can read at least one of those excuses in a different way.  When the Lord presents him an opportunity, I would hate for my husband to have to say, “I have married a wife and therefore I cannot come.”

A worthy woman who can find? For her price is far above rubies.  The heart of her husband trusts in her and he shall have no lack of gain.  She does him good and not evil all the days of his life.  Her husband is known in the gates where he sits with the elders of the land.  Grace is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears Jehovah, she shall be praised, Prov 31:10-12, 23,30.

Dene Ward

            We have another hawk nest, this one in the oak northeast of our bedroom window, the closest any have ever come.  But that isn’t the only nest we have this spring.

            The grape arbor to the west of the boys’ bedrooms is housing a dove’s nest, not the first time for that either.  This past winter we had a brown thrasher visit the feeder for the first time.  It is a big bird, about the same size as the mockingbird who also came calling for the first time.  We noticed afterward that the thrasher and its mate often flew around the carport, and finally a couple of weeks ago, Keith spotted its nest in the oak tree on the southeast corner of the carport, the mother’s tail feather the only thing visible from the ground.  And then we found the mockingbird’s nest in the water oak where we back out of the carport to head down the drive—four speckled, pale blue eggs in a perilously low slung limb.  Just this past weekend we finally saw the chicks—four orange mouths opened wide.

            While I am certain we have had other nests in all these years, this is the first time we have known where four were and could keep tabs on them.  It isn’t just curiosity.  I learned years ago when the first hawks set up housekeeping in the big old pine east of the garden that you can learn a lot from watching these creatures.

            The newest hawk couple plays tag-team parenting.  Every morning she calls from the nest, and if I am outside I can hear him answer from a long way off.  Gradually he flies in closer, the back and forth conversation continuing the whole time.  Then he will land in the top of the oak, ten to fifteen feet from her.  I suppose it takes her a minute to get herself up and around.  She is usually hunkered down so low in the nest you can see nothing but the round top of her head and maybe her eyes, even with a pair of binoculars.  Finally he flies to the nest and as soon as he lands she takes off, giving him room to set for awhile as she tends to her own business.  In the evening he brings her food so she doesn’t have to leave, and then roosts for the night nearby, a sentry guarding his family.

            When the first hawk chicks hatched four years ago, watching those parents in action could keep me occupied for a long time.  At first the father brought the food while the mother sat keeping the little ones warm.  After they had grown a bit and could be left alone for a short while, both parents were bringing food.  Back and forth they flew at least half the day.  It took that much to keep them fed. 

            As the babies grew older and larger, the mother often perched on a limb next to the nest for it was now too crowded.  But once, those rowdy youngsters got to playing too wildly.  I wondered if they might not be in danger of falling out of the nest.  Evidently the mother thought the same thing because she jumped into the nest, spread her wings and began tapping down on the chicks’ heads, gradually calming them.  Before long she hopped back out and they remained still and quiet.  I could just imagine her telling them, “Now behave yourselves or you’re going to be hurt!”

            Have you seen the “hurt bird” trick?  Whenever we walk near the grape arbor, the mother dove leaves the nest, flying to the ground not too far away, and walks, dragging a wing.  She is trying to lure what she sees as a predator away from her babies by making herself seem like an easy mark.

            The mockingbird mother will fly as close as she has ever dared come to us, then land on a nearby limb any time we approach her nest.  We watch her carefully to avoid being attacked as we stand on our toes to peer in.  As soon as we leave she is in the nest checking on her babies.

            Another time I came upon a cardinal couple in those days when I could still safely walk lap after lap around the fence line of the property.  They sat on the fence just ahead of me, the male between me and the female.  Ordinarily cardinals will fly at the least hint of danger.  That male would not leave the fence as I closed in on him.  Finally I was close enough to the female beyond him that she flew off into the wild myrtles across the fence.  The minute she was safe he flew too.  Chivalry may be dead in humans, but evidently not in the avian world.

            I know these birds are only doing what God put into them.  They are following instinct, but it seems to me that we could learn a lot from them.  If God thought these attributes, the care and discipline of the young and providing for and protecting the family, were important, shouldn’t that be important to us too?  Why do things like worldly success, prestigious careers, and boatloads of money and possessions seem to take all of our time and energy, while our children subsist on our leftovers, of which there is often precious little? 

            I have seen hawk parents teaching their children how to hunt so they can survive.  I have seen human parents send their children to Bible classes with blank lesson books, or no books or Bible at all.  I have seen cardinal parents feed their children one sunflower seed at a time, a slow and tedious process.  I have seen human parents plop their children in front of the TV to keep them entertained for hours, heedless of what it does to their minds.

            When a bird knows better than we do how to care for their young, we are in a sad state.  Maybe God put these examples in front of us to teach us a thing a two.  Being “bird-brained” might not be such a bad thing after all.

You make springs gush forth in the valleys; they flow between the hills; they give drink to every beast of the field; the wild donkeys quench their thirst.  Beside them the birds of the heavens dwell; they sing among the branches. The trees of the Lord are watered abundantly, the cedars of Lebanon that he planted, in them the birds build their nests; the stork has her home in the fir trees. These all look to you to give them food in due season.  When you give it to them they gather it up; when you open your hand they are filled with good things.  When you send forth your Spirit they are created, and you renew the face of the ground.  May the glory of the Lord endure forever; may the Lord rejoice in his works, Psa 104:10-12, 16,17,27,28,30,31.

Dene Ward