That flicker (see previous post) has now created a place of rest for her/himself in the side of my house about twenty feet up under the eaves and out of my reach. My wife considers him/her a blessed Christmas guest. She spelled it wrong; it’s pest. I wonder what the temple priests thought when the psalmist waxed poetic about the sparrow and swallow?
Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, at your altars, O LORD of hosts, my King and my God. (Psalm 84.3)
The next line is: “Happy are those who live in your house ever singing your praise.” Is RAT-A-TAT-TAT a form of singing God’s praise? I’ve got a feathered Gene Krupa living here. Couldn’t I have Benny Goodman? Sorry kids – look’em up. Oh well, might as well get used to it, and thanks be to God for strange things in my life.