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For months I have been hearing birds chirping when the sun begins to rise.  Every morning they seem so close when I wake from a great night’s sleep. For a while I thought that they were outside of my window, in the trees.  Eventually, I would discover how very wrong I was!

They were in the trees.  I saw many birds perched in the branches. But, there were more birds that were very close.

When I listened closely, I suspected that my house had been invaded.  It’s my own fault.  I was going to solve this problem last Fall.  But, I was busy and I forgot about the problem.

During that time I had hired an electrician do some installation work for me.  Some of his work had to be done in the attic.  So, I mentioned to him to take note of any holes that were letting birds into the attic.

He finished his wiring and did a splendid job.  I forgot to ask him about the birds.  He never mentioned any such news, not once volunteering any observations.

Finally, when I had a free Saturday and remembered that I wanted to hunt down the birds, I grabbed a ladder and climbed into my attic.  Then, I realized why he never mentioned that he saw any birds.  There were no birds in my attic. Now, I was confused.  Where were they?

Once I closed my attic trap-door and put away my ladder I did a perimeter check around my house.  I found a hole in my outside wall about 12 feet up.  It was about the size of a small apple. 

A sparrow fluttered from above and grabbed on to the side of my house.  Near that hole in my wall it chirped at me and disappeared, letting the hole swallow him up.  Aha!  I had misjudged the location of the birds for months. 

They weren’t in the attic.  Their hole wasn’t that high.  Judging by the hole in the wall they were just inside, between the siding and the sheet rock.  They were inside the wall!

Like the old hymn says, His Eye is On the Sparrow.  Maybe I can pray them out, ask God to relocate them.  Surely, it wouldn’t be much trouble for Him.  This little brood of birds sure is noisy.  It sure would be nice to wake up to peace and quiet once again.

 

Sunday evening was very cool.  I was excited to start on an adventure with good friends.   Maybe I twisted too quickly getting out of his car.  Moving from the warm car into the cool evening air may have been too much of a contrast.  Pain shot through my left hip.

I grimaced.  Do you suck in the air through your teeth when agony sneaks up and bites you too?  But, I didn’t let my friends know.  No use being a baby about a little discomfort.

The more that I stomped around in the woods, the worse the pain became.  Rest would have made sense but our journey West knew only a limited amount of opportunity before we were called back home and into the office.

Every day I popped pain pills and carried out the woodsmanship that we had planned for an entire year.  Both hips were sore.  On top of that my back was beginning to ache. 

Back problems are no fun.  They ruin everything. I was disappointed that my slow movements were escalating

If the pain persisted I knew that i would have to go and see my doctor.  Lots of tests would have to be taken and any subsequent diagnosis would not be any fun at all. 

I imagined a prognosis of a few months to live.  Some malady with a name that I couldn’t pronounce would be my undoing.  God was calling me home . . . such heroic morbidity, eh?

Now, ten days later I suddenly remembered.  Walking across a parking lot with groceries in hand my mind pieced together the cause of my pain.  Aren’t such reflective recollections amazing?

A week ago Friday, I was walking the streets of downtown with a good friend. The weather turned soggy and sprinkled enough rain on the sidewalks to get them slick.  Locked into conversation while walking I stepped on to a slick spot, went airborne. 

But, because of my highly trained athletic skills I landed on three appendages with one other reaching for balance.  My friend was very impressed with my recovery.  It was a break dance move of the coolest kind.

That unexpected near-fall was my eventual injury.  The twisting and straining surely tore something that began to surface days later.  At least I wasn’t dying of some rare tropical disease.  While it may not have been break dancing, I did break something.

 

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