Noggin

May 2006 ... I was sitting in my office on a particularly quiet Friday feeling very proud about all the work I was getting done. I was focused, on a roll, in the zone of productivity when my determination was interrupted by a gentle "tap, tap, tapping" on the window. I turned, saw nothing and went back to my zone, when I clearly heard the sound once again. Looking a little closer now, I saw the nemesis of my concentration: a vibrant, scarlet cardinal hopping on my window sill, tapping his equally bright yellow beak against the glass. I smiled at the little guy and turned back around, trying to get back to my happy work place that I was so blissfully enjoying.

My thoughts were quickly diverted when the "tap, tap, tapping" was replaced with a brash and violent bash and I caught out of the corner of my eye a red blur dropping to the ground. I ran to the window and saw the little bird shake himself off, fly back to the nearby tree, and, yes, fly at full velocity into the very same window. I'd like to say that I reacted with a sense of compassion and empathy for my directionally challenged new friend. I'd like to say that, but honestly my loud laughter was coupled with the thought of, "What a dumb bird!"

Fast forward six hours later. The novelty and humor of the situation has worn off due to the constant sound of the bludgeoning of a small cardinal head and my window. I'll give him credit. He tried new tactics, new flight patterns, new speeds, giving a whole new meaning to both the term "perseverance" and "insanity," never convinced that he was devoting his day to an impossible dream. I left work slightly annoyed and desirous to share my plight of being a reluctant ornithologist to my co-workers.

I didn't have to work long for their empathy. They were quickly pulled into the situation the next day when the bird returned, begging for more, once again clocking his 8 hr. day by trying to break through the window. When it continued throughout the next week we tried everything to redirect his efforts: window clings, talking to him, tapping back at him, yelling at him, threatening him. Nothing. So, we did the only thing that was left. We made him our unofficial mascot and named him Noggin.

Noggin continued to enjoy the office window for the remainder of the summer until sometime towards the end of October (save one week in July when I think he went on vacation). And with the advent of the snow and colder weather, Noggin ditched Wexford, PA. Last week, I found myself wondering about my little friend, hoping that he survived the cold temps and maybe was enjoying a lovely bay window along a Gulf Coast condo.

My Noggin musings were answered this morning when I was checking my e-mails before services and I heard the gentle "tap, tap, tapping" one more time. Yep, he was back. I squealed with glee and said, "Welcome Home!" to dear Noggin, as it seems like he only likes to work during Daylight Savings Time. It even seems that he's now brought a girlfriend with him, although my amateur Audubon skills tell me that she's a sparrow, not a cardinal. Poor guy must've banged his head on that window one too many times to know the difference. I'm not sure if he was trying to show off to her or if he was just revitalized from the rest, but my man was attacking the window with a new vengeance today.

Believe it or not, in the months of my "relationship" with Noggin, God has actually brought him to mind, showing me an all-too-often picture of my own behaviors and mindsets. Sometimes I'm working towards a goal or project or praying/begging God to answer a particular prayer request of mine, and I'm met with failure or closed doors or a flat out, "No." Instead of submitting to the guidance, I react with more determination thinking, "If I work harder or faster or more often perhaps then ..." or, "If I rephrase the question or try and manipulate the situation, then maybe ..."

Over and over my efforts are more determined while I bash my head again and again into the looking glass of my misperceived dreams. And my Father's reaction? Often simply standing there, lovingly tapping back at me saying, "No, Leah. Not this way. Turn around. There's a whole other world out there for you to explore if you just trust me and follow me here." Sometimes I suffer more of a migraine than others, depending on my obedience reaction time, but I continually discover, not so surprisingly, that He's right. I truly do, "see but a poor reflection as in a mirror" and until I can "see face to face," I need navigational guidance. Until I no longer "know in part" I need Someone who "knows fully, even as I am fully known." (I Cor. 13:12)

I'm so thankful for God's patience and grace with my "Nogginy" nature and can only pray that I can react the same way with my dear friend until October comes once again. :-)